A Christmas to Remember: Merry Christmas, from Diagon Alley II
by Diagon Alley II
Summary: A collection of short tales written by the members of Diagon Alley II for their Secret Santas. Featuring characters from each generation and filled with laughter, love and a little sadness, we hope you enjoy this gift.
1. Christmas with the Dumbledores

_**A/N: Hello everyone and Merry Christmas! We hope you all have a fantastic and safe holiday.**_

 _ **Here at Diagon Alley II we have decided to have a little Secret Santa event in the spirit of Christmas. Several members of our forum have written a short story for their Secret Santa, and have published it together on this account. For the time being, the individuals authors will not be named until our other 'guess the author' competition finishes (in a day or so). As such, all formatting will be similar to prevent any obvious clues from coming out. Please feel free to take a guess yourself who it may be from DAII, and if there's a particular story here that takes your fancy, PM this account for I'd love to reward the hardest workers! (Note: no profit has been made from any of these stories - all characters and themes you may recognise from the world of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling).**_

 _ **We hope you enjoy these stories from the heart. Without further ado, here is the first story written for the lovely Lokilette by the talented VoicesOffCamera (author of highly recommended fics such as 'Smoke and Mirrors' and 'The Righteous Side of Hell').**_

* * *

 **Christmas with the Dumbledores**

"Albus, when will Aberforth be home?"

Albus glanced over at Ariana from where he sat at his desk, reading. He couldn't help but feel a bit startled by how coherently she had posed the question. He watched her for a moment where she sat on the floor with her feet tucked up underneath her and her elbows up on the low coffee table, observing how she seemed to be concentrating very hard on the parchment in front of her as she made little mindless doodles. Then he glanced up at the clock on the wall.

"Any moment now," he told her. "The Hogwarts Express must be arriving at the platform by now. He'll be along soon after."

"Should we go and fetch him?" Ariana questioned, not looking up from her doodles.

Albus raised an eyebrow at her, turning a little more fully from his book in order to study his younger sister curiously. "He will make his way here on his own," he stated. "He will floo from the platform."

"And mother? Will she be home soon as well?"

Albus took in a sharp breath at that. Apparently she wasn't a coherent as he had thought. He turned back to his book, feeling uncomfortable with the situation.

"I expect she will be," he mumbled, unable to give any other answer than that. He couldn't tell her that their mother wasn't coming home this time. Not again, anyway.

"Father will be cross if she doesn't have dinner ready when he gets home," Ariana said matter-of-factly.

"Hm," Albus hummed noncommittally.

His eyes strayed to a letter that lay on his desk from his friend Elphias Doge, which he had received the day before and had already read a dozen or so times. His friend had reached Egypt and was commenting on how warm the weather was for so close to the Christmas holiday. Albus sighed wistfully as his eyes traced the familiar curves of his friend's handwriting, before glancing out the window over his desk to find that it had started snowing in Godric's Hollow. Egypt would be a wonderful place to explore at Christmastime.

Suddenly, the fire roared up. Albus turned in time to see Ariana screech as she scrambled away from the fireplace, her eyes full of fear. A nearby vase was thrown off of the end table with such force that it smashed up against the wall, sending shards of glass in every which direction. Albus half rose from his chair, his hand already on his wand that was resting on his desk, but froze as Aberforth stepped from the fireplace. His brother did not even hesitate before dropping his rucksack and hurrying over to their little sister.

"Ariana, it's alright, it's alright now," Aberforth said gently, a kindness in his eyes that could only be seen when he looked upon his younger sister. A kindness that disappeared when he looked over at Albus. "You shouldn't let her sit so close to the fireplace when you know someone is about to floo into it."

"She seemed content with her little drawings," Albus tried to defend. With little thought, his wand was in his hand and he waved it, causing the shards of glass to jump back together into a whole vase once again. "I didn't want to disturb her."

Aberforth rolled his eyes. "She can do her drawings in another spot further from the fireplace so that it's not like flooing into a bloody war zone," he mumbled.

"It was only one vase this time," Albus reminded him.

Aberforth sighed in exasperation, though Albus didn't really understand what he was so worried about. This was normal behavior for Ariana and after all these years they knew that she was never going to get any better. So why not let her have some peace when she could find it rather than constantly moving her about trying to protect her from anything that might set her off?

It wasn't like she could do to Albus what she had done to their mother this past June.

"It wasn't my fault, it wasn't my fault, I didn't mean to, please daddy, come home, I'll be good I promise," Ariana was mumbling quickly to herself as she rocked back and forth on the floor.

Carefully, Aberforth wrapped his arms around Ariana. His presence had an instant effect on her, calming her in a way that Albus was never able to. She leaned into him and Albus suddenly felt uncomfortable, like he was intruding on a very private moment that had nothing to do with him. He sat back down in his chair and turned his back on the scene, going back to the book he had been reading, though he was admittedly less focused than he had been before.

"You've got some ink on your dress," he heard Aberforth say kindly. "Why don't you go get cleaned up before dinner?"

Albus listened as Ariana slowly stood up and carefully padded down the hallway in her stocking feet. He knew that she was unlikely to talk for a while after a breakdown like this. He closed his eyes, feeling worn. He wasn't looking forward to playing the guessing game when it came to what Ariana wanted for the next couple days.

"I packed up the rest of my things at school." Albus jerked in surprise, unaware that Aberforth had come up behind him. That was quite a feat, considering Aberforth wasn't usually the most subtle of individuals. "I'm going to arrange for them to be sent back here. I won't be returning to school after this Christmas holiday."

Albus sighed. "Don't be silly, Aberforth," he said tiredly. "I'm not having this conversation with you again."

"She needs me here, Albus," Aberforth snapped.

"I am here taking care of Ariana," Albus pointed out, the clipped tone of annoyance just present in his voice. "And you are going to finish school. That's all there is to be said on the subject."

"And what gives you the right to gives orders like that without any concern for anyone else?" Aberforth demanded.

"With father in prison and mother gone, I am legal guardian to both you and Ariana," Albus said in what he thought was a very reasonable tone. "That means that it's up to me. And you are not giving up your education, Aberforth. You need it." He said the last part quietly, almost to himself.

Aberforth snorted. "Not everyone puts as much faith in education alone like you do."

"Perhaps not," Albus said mildly as he stood up from his desk. "But as my opinion is the only one that matters in this house, I'd like to suggest that you get cleaned up for dinner." And with that, he brushed passed his brother as he headed for the kitchen.

"And perhaps if you cared for anyone other than yourself, you'd realize that simply controlling us isn't going to fix this family," Aberforth called after him.

Albus kept walking as if he hadn't heard him. Why couldn't Aberforth understand, Albus wondered as he entered the kitchen. It would be easy for Albus to give up all of this. He certainly didn't want to be here, sitting with his younger sister day in and day out like a nursemaid as all his talents were wasted in this small town. But he stayed because he cared for his siblings. He wanted more for them than what they had. That didn't make him a bad person. Someday, when he was a powerful wizard who influenced the world they lived in, they would both understand what he's done for them.

Albus had never been very good at cooking. It seemed like it should be simple enough, but no matter how closely he followed the recipe, it never tasted quite right. It was odd, he had excelled at Potions much like he excelled at all the rest of his classes in school, and it seemed that cooking should be terribly similar in theory. He really didn't understand why this didn't come as easily.

In any case, he had what he deemed to be a perfectly acceptable dinner on the table not fifteen minutes later. Aberforth had to coax Arianna out to the table, and Albus couldn't help but feel grateful that the task hadn't been left to him. It certainly would be useful to have Aberforth around more… but what would people think of him if he let his younger brother drop out of Hogwarts? It simply wasn't an option.

* * *

 _ **Dec 22**_

"You should eat something," Aberforth was saying, focusing solely on Ariana and acting as if Albus was not even sitting there, picking at the dry chicken on his plate. "Just a little something? Please? For me?" Ariana was staring vacantly down at the plate as if she had no idea what she was supposed to do with it. Aberforth sighed as he picked up his own fork. "Look, it's good. You don't know what you're missing out on, dear sister." He took a scoop of food off his plate, barely glanced to see what it was, and shoveled it into his mouth.

There was a pause as Aberforth's features were suddenly unreadable. Albus watched, unable to help but feel amused as his brother seemed to be at a loss. Finally, after the moment had stretched on uncomfortably long, Aberforth very unceremoniously spat his food back onto his plate.

"Blimy, Albus!" he said as Albus tried to hide a smirk. "Can the former British Youth Representative to the Wizengamot really not make a dinner that doesn't taste like feet?" As usual, he had named one of Albus' many achievements in a very mocking way, so as not to be confused with a compliment.

There was a small noise, like the tinkering of very delicate glass that didn't come from either of the boys. They both looked to Ariana, surprised by the noise that they heard so rarely at such an odd moment. As she lifted her gaze from the plate, Albus could see in her eyes that she was having one of her rare moments of clarity where she knew exactly what was going on around her, just a glimpse of the brilliant witch he knew that she could have been.

"Albus has always been a terrible cook," she said quietly.

Aberforth roared with laughter, as if this was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "I hope that he hasn't been feeding you this rubbish since I left."

"Bathilda has been sending over meals quite periodically," Albus spoke up, his eyes twinkling. "Curious, but it seems that she doesn't trust me to be a proper cook."

"Well, she sure got that right," Aberforth laughed. "I wouldn't feed this to my goats!"

Albus was still watching Ariana, mesmerized by the light smile that still graced her lips. Despite the two of them poking fun of him, Albus felt this wonderful sense of pride swelling up inside of him. It was worth a poor meal to be able to see that smile. It was even worth it to hear Aberforth jest so easily. For a moment, things felt very much like they did when they were young, before their lives had been so permanently altered by a group of young Muggle boys.

What he wouldn't give to simply live in this one moment, to pretend that nothing outside of the three of them sitting at the small kitchen table just a few days before Christmas existed.

What he wouldn't give for a simple life.


	2. Cold

_**Written for the delightful VoicesOffCamera for the Christmas Secret Santa Gift Exchange hosted by whitetiger91 at Diagon Alley II**_

 _ **This fic was written by the very talented NightmarePrince, author of notable works such as 'Lovers and Liars' and 'We Are Family.'**_

* * *

 **Cold**

The snow is cold.

She wanders down the garden path, snowflakes in her hair, her cheeks reddening under the stinging wind. Hands stuffed into pockets, wand tucked up her sleeve, she plods on, taking care not to slip as she moves across the unsteady ground.

If she looks back, she'll see her parents' house in the distance. Smoke rises from the chimney, and there's a small nativity scene arranged across the front yard, complete with the timeworn snowman that's been a part of her family since before her birth. In her mind's eye, she can still remember the winter morning during which she and her sister would assemble the entire scene with their father, whilst their mother prepared hot cocoa and steaming gingerbread men for them to tuck into once they're done.

It brings a pang to her heart to see how vast the chasm between them has become.

She's still within sight of the house, and if she chooses to, she can still look back . . . she can still see it, if she so wishes.

She doesn't turn back, hurrying on and only pausing when she reaches a park. The chains and bars are covered in frost, and the wooden swings are slick with ice. Memories assault her, slamming into her like a punch to the gut, and abruptly she turns away.

Her house no longer feels like a home, and perhaps that's because she's made a new home for herself.

Closing her eyes, Lily let's the darkness take her, and with a soft pop, she's gone.

* * *

The snow is cold.

He sits upon the stone bench beneath the bare-branched oak, gloved fingers folded across his lap. The flakes are falling faster now, and he notes that the drifts are higher than his ankles. Somehow or another, it doesn't matter to him, and he flicks his wand to clear the small piles of white which settle on his shoulders and hat.

The house across the street is a grim one, with not so much as a single decoration upon its doors or windows. Inside, though, he knows that the inhabitants have decorated for Yule and raised a tree, and the lady of the house has no doubt been cracking the metaphorical whip at her House-Elves since the crack of dawn to prepare dinner. They will be coming soon, the swan-lord, the dark star, the flower, and their spouses, and he hopes to be gone before they arrive.

He wonders what brings him here every year, he wonders why he, somehow, always returns to his former prison on Christmas Day.

There's movement at one of the upper floor windows, and a shock of dark hair appears against the glass. His brother is leaner and more aristocratic that before, yet his expression brightens at once. Shaking his head, he rises from his perch on the bench, and presses a finger to his lips. The boy nods in the window, still smiling, and mouths his name in barely concealed delight.

Brothers, the man on the bench thinks, will tear gaping wounds within each other's hearts, and still be there for each other no matter what.

Extricating a slender, silver-wrapped box from his coat, and with a flick of his wand, delivers it to his brother's windowsill.

Taking to his feet and dusting himself, he looks at the house that never was his home, and closes his eyes.

Sirius lets the darkness wash around him, and with a loud crack, he's gone.

* * *

The snow is cold.

The frigid fingers of winter grasp at her, trying their best to pierce her clothing and seep through her skin, and she lets out a sigh. Breath fogging before her, she takes a deep breath and enters the woods.

Icicles cling to the evergreen, snow-covered branches, and hoarfrost clings to what remains of the shrubbery. Her Manor rises behind her, elegant and imposing, and yet she cannot bring herself to go back whilst her father fusses about finding her an appropriate match. He, like so many others, doesn't trust her current suitor, and she wishes they would all mind their own business.

A woman nobly born to one of the oldest Pureblood families of the country, she's been raised as her father's ambassador, to be sent off to marry a man of equal or greater birth. The gentleness of her bloodline and gender stop at birth, though, for as far as she's concerned, she's as good as any man. If her father cannot trust her judgement and let her be with the man she loves, then she will not let him marry her off to a family that will prove most advantageous to him.

Reaching into her pocket to draw out a cigarette, she brings the Malboro to her lips and lights it with her wand, taking a deep drag before continuing down the forest path. In her childhood, she remembers darting through these trees with her brothers, and she remembers her mother's laughter, and her father's smile. Children at innocent to their parent's games, but now as she grows to be a woman, she would rather be a player than a pawn.

It's all gone now, and she realises that the house behind her can never have been her home. Not when her home is wherever he is . . . and even if he is disgraced, disowned, and disinherited, he's hers.

Marlene lets the darkness crest around her, and with a subtle snap, she's gone.

* * *

The snow is cold.

He huddles in the drifts, naked save for what remains of his tattered jeans. Around him, the white is splattered with red, and he doesn't know whether the blood is his or his prey's. A fresh pair is left nearby, and somehow, despite the numerous fresh cuts, bruises, and slashes across his body, it's the sight of those clothes that sting the most.

His parents have seen him like this, broken and bleeding, and rather than heal him, or take him inside, all they do is leave him a fresh set of clothes.

It's enough to make him want to scream.

The transformation isn't an easy one, it hasn't been easy for a while now. Usually, his friends are able to calm the beast within in their animal forms, yet for some reason, the growing stress of the coming war has been making for a more violent, more animalistic wolf. It isn't going to be long, he reckons, before he ends up bleeding to death from his self-inflicted wounds.

Gingerly, he struggles to his feet, hissing with pain as a wounds break open, leaking fresh blood down his pale skin. Each step torture, he manages to reach the pile of clothes, and sees his wand placed alongside a bottle of Dittany. Gritting his teeth, he reaches for the bottle, and has to bite his tongue to keep from screaming as he begins the gruesome task.

When finally he is done, he looks behind him, and sees smoke rising from the cottage not far off. It's a house, four walls and a roof, and he knows that it's gradually ceased to be his home . . . from the moment that monster broke his bedroom window and prowled towards his bed as he hid, trembling, beneath the sheets.

Remus allows himself to hate, for just a moment, before letting the darkness burst fought from within him, and with a harsh crack, he's gone.

* * *

The snow is cold.

He walks through empty halls, and ignores the way every scrap of wallpaper mocks him with the memories of those he's lost. It hurts, it does, and he hopes that one day the pain will not be so sharp. He hopes that he will heal, in time, provided he survives the war.

It's been six months since the pox claimed his parents, and with him having spent the months since their passing at school, the grounds are in a state of growing disarray. Personally, he's not seen any reason to tend them either, and the as his family are not in the habit of keeping house elves, there is little else to do. The wounds are to raw, to bloody, for him to even think about the state of his estate.

He thinks that his mother will die all over again if she sees what's become of her precious roses.

Perhaps it's time to sell and make a fresh start.

This house is no longer a home, he reckons, but he's sure that, given time, he can find himself a home once more.

* * *

The hearth is warm.

They sit around a table, laughter heavy in the air as they celebrate. The place is small, just a humble room above the Three Broomsticks, and yet there's a sense of comfort about it that none of them can deny. A half-empty bottle of Firewhisky lies beside several other, empty bottles of various liquors, and the dishes have all been licked clean of Christmas dinner.

It is then, they realise, the five of them, in this broken place, that it is only when they're together that they're home.


	3. Let it Snow

**Let it Snow**

 ** _For Shane (NightmarePrince): Inspired by my favourite Aussie-based fic of yours, Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this! -Tigger (whitetiger91)_**

* * *

"Can we go back now? My feet are sore from all this walking."

"In a little bit, I just want to check this place out," the bushy-haired brunette called back, increasing her pace along the street.

Draco huffed impatiently, adjusting the small load upon his back. His feet really were aching, his leg muscles protesting with each step he took. The sun beat down relentlessly, reflecting off the bitumen and into his eyes each time he dared to look across the road to the tempting blue waves of the beach. He was beginning to regret his decision to refuse to ride around in one of those Muggle cars Hermione called a 'taxi'- no matter how much they smelt and how cramped inside they appeared, perhaps they would've been better than sharing a busy street with Muggles pushing past his shoulder all the time. It was bad enough that he was dressed in these ridiculous, unflattering Muggle shorts in public.

"How much further?"

"It's that shop just up there."

Draco squinted as he looked up at the various metal shop signs hanging from the shop verandas. Most of them advertised surf-ware of some sort, including these strange, large, pointed boards. In between these shops, there were a few little cafes surrounded by white, plastic chairs and tables, the occupants of which stared out haughtily at passers-by as they sipped from their coffee cups. Draco glared back at them in annoyance, wondering why they felt the need to act so self-important.

Hermione hadn't seemed to notice them, however, as she stood outside a small shop window, biting her lip anxiously. As Draco got closer to her, he could see that she was looking into a light blue room with a large white counter in the centre. Large block letters across the glass proclaimed it to be 'Bondi Orthodontist – Smiles Worthy of the Stars'.

"Nice decorations," Draco scoffed, nodding his head towards the poor excuse of a Christmas tree sitting next to the desk. Many of the branches were bare, save for a few, flimsy plastic baubles in dull silver and gold tones. "Muggles call _that_ a Christmas tree? It doesn't even look real."

"It's not – there aren't really many natural pine trees here. It's different in England; fresh trees, mounds of food, tinsel that glitters… there isn't even any snow here." Hermione sighed heavily, turning around to look at the beach and clear skyline.

Very few clouds were scattered across the sky; thin wisps that couldn't have held rain let alone snow. The only other white objects in the sky were the dozen or so noisy seagulls who were begging for chips from the picnickers sitting on the low, grassy knoll. "Doesn't matter though, I'm sure this is the place we're looking for." Hermione shook her head quickly as she turned back to the shop front, her face taking on a more determined expression.

Following her gaze to the shop once more, Draco doubted that this was the place that would lead them to the Grangers. For the last few months, he and Hermione had been to every dentist along the east coast of Australia, having found that her parents had moved from their 'safe house' over a year ago. So far, they had had little luck discovering where they had gone, Hermione sure that her father had continued his dental practice somewhere. FIX. From the people they had come across, no one had even heard of the Wilkins' or Grangers' before. It was thus fairly likely that they would have the same bad luck with this place.

Still, having noticed the watery quality Hermione's eyes seemed to take on, Draco did not voice his reservations. Pushing open the large door and cringing at the tinkling of the bell above it, he followed Hermione inside.

A girl in her early twenties sat behind the desk, her long nails tapping away at a box of small, lettered squares that sat in front of a larger, buzzing grey box. Her gaze remained focused upon the machine, ignoring them as they approached her.

Hermione glanced at Draco, before clearing her throat. "Ahem."

The receptionist clicked her tongue impatiently and continued to tap away, pausing only to swipe a stray strand of dark hair back into her bun.

Growing impatient himself, Draco looked at the all the strange objects on the desk. Next to a funny looking statue of a deer, he noticed a round, silver bell. Reaching forward, he pressed the trigger, glaring pointedly at the woman. When she eventually sighed and looked up at him, he pressed it again, just to ensure that she knew he was someone she should not ignore.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, clearly annoyed as she slid the bell away from Draco's grasp.

Frowning at him, Hermione stepped forward and began the same, familiar speech that now seemed rehearsed. "Yes. I'm looking for someone. A doctor – erm, dentist –"

Looking Hermione up and down, the receptionist interrupted with a small sneer, "All our doctors are very busy at the moment… and expensive. Which one do you want?"

"I'm looking for Dr Wilkins," Hermione replied, undeterred.

"Nup, never heard of him."

"Are- are you sure? Perhaps he goes by Dr Granger?"

"Never heard of him either. Look, are you sure it's _this_ practice he works in?" the lady asked, lifting her chin and trailing her eyes up and down Hermione's form again.

Hermione nodded, ignoring the woman's attitude. Draco, however, was fast becoming sick of the woman's arrogance and decided it best he took over.

"Of course we're sure. Do you think we'd waste our time and come in here if we weren't?" Sneering, Draco looked around the room in the same distasteful manner that the lady had looked at Hermione. "Now, I don't think your boss would be too pleased to hear how you treated his son, now, would you? I suggest you find out where Dr Wilkins is and let us know."

Her eyes widening in surprise, she asked, "You're related to Dr Thomas? I always thought he was, y' know, gay or whatever. I didn't know he had a son. Wow, better tell Mandy, I'm sure she'll be pleased."

"That's right, now Dr Wilkins if you please," Draco replied condescendingly, glad she had not called his bluff.

"Oh, ugh, alright, fine. Just give me a sec." Muttering under her breath about children interrupting her social time, the receptionist pulled out a small, black book from the files behind her. Flipping through the pages quickly, she sighed heavily. "What was his name again?"

"Dr Wilkins."

"Wilkins, Wilkins… that's W-I-L, right?"

"Yes."

"Um, no, can't see a- oh, wait a minute. Yes, right here, Dr Wilkins."

Hermione beamed at Draco, her eyes glistening. She was now half-leaning against the counter, almost as if she would climb over it just to see her father's name written down somewhere.

Unfortunately, the woman snapped the small book closed. "But it seems he left six months ago. Went down south apparently – don't ever know why though, Tasmania is so bloody cold."

"Where in Tasmania did he go?" Hermione asked, not ready to give up.

"I can't tell you that," the woman replied with a sneer. Then, turning back to the grey box and sighing as it made a beeping sound, she asked, "Now is there something else I can help you two with or can I get back to my work?"

Turning on her heel, Hermione stormed out towards the door. Draco heard her muttering under her breath about 'rude service' and 'checking e-mails' as she walked.

Stepping forward, he said, "Thanks for all your 'help'." Then, for good measure, he rang the bell on the desk before following Hermione out onto the humid street.

* * *

"Stupid Muggles, how do they do this?" Draco muttered to himself as he pressed all the coloured buttons on the little black rectangle Hermione called a 'remote.'

For the life of him, Draco could not remember which one would turn on the television – or as he liked to call it, 'idiot box' – in front of him. He didn't really like looking into the tiny screen, for the people inside looked trapped, yet there was nothing else to do in the cramped hotel room. After digging his fingers into all keys at once with no results, he gave up and threw it onto the lounge.

"Did you remember to check the batteries?" Hermione asked as she came into the room, dragging a suitcase behind her.

"Of course I did," Draco grumbled, feeling his cheeks burn. "Anyway, what are you bringing that thing out for?"

Sighing impatiently, she replied, "It's my bag for Tasmania. I just need to get a few things and then we can be off."

"What, now?"

"Well of course now. My parents are down there, I want to go and find them."

"Yeah, but, it's Christmas Eve."

"And?"

"Well, I sort of planned on relaxing today."

"We didn't come here for a holiday, Draco."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Do you even know where in Tasmania they are? I mean, look at this country, its humungous! I mean, we've been to over forty beaches in the last week for Merlin's sake! We're probably going to end up walking around all day just looking for another crap hotel to stay at."

Blushing furiously, Hermione whispered, "My parents are worth it." Then, reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, her blush deepening. "As a matter of fact, I do know where they are. Whilst you were lounging around all afternoon yesterday I found a local library-"

"Of course you did," he murmured.

Hermione chose to ignore Draco's comment and continued, "-and I found a place where a Mr and Mrs Wilkins live, not too far from Hobart. I mean it makes sense that they'd want to go there; they've always loved the mountains and rivers they have. It's a very beautiful landscape, actually, and I've read that it has a fascinating convict history. Did you know many of the city's buildings are from the 19th century? Anyway, it fits that they'd be there and I don't want to waste any more time wondering."

Draco began to kick the low coffee table as he listened to Hermione, though it only caused his already aching feet to throb. It was so typical of her to want to jump on a lead because it was the only clue they had. Bloody Gryffindor. He understood her need to know where her parents were, but couldn't she wait? Couldn't he have a day to simply relax his muscles, to rest his strained back?

"Couldn't we at least wait until after Christmas?"

"Draco, please, this is important to me. I thought you said you didn't mind all this."

Still kicking the table in frustration, he replied, "That was before I realised I'd be bitten by about a million bugs and forced to visit the bush."

"Please Draco…"

Looking up at her face, Draco simply shook his head. He couldn't do it, not now.

"Fine, I'll go myself."

Hermione ducked her head, trying to hide the tears that swelled in her eyes. Her lips were pressed together in that all-too-familiar way that Draco knew meant that she would not change her mind. Picking up her suitcase, she strode out into the tiny kitchenette and began to noisily place various items into it.

Draco cringed as each tin being thrown in clanged against each other. He tried to ignore it and focused on the television ahead, whose screen was still black. He deserved a break, didn't he?

Eventually, Hermione came back out with her suitcase minimised. Her cheeks were still red, yet were now stained with tears. Without so much as glancing at him, she walked to the hotel room's door, dropping a key on the small, wooden table next to it.

"Merry Christmas, Malfoy. Don't wait up."

He flinched at the cold, unfeeling tone in her voice. Sighing heavily as she shut the door, he stood up, his legs already beginning to ache with the prospect of more walking. He would definitely regret this decision in the morning, he knew.

"Hermione, hold on."

* * *

"This is it! It must be! Look, it even has their name written here," Hermione squealed excitedly from a nearby wire fence.

Draco swung his head back and forth, but could only see the same long, rusty-brown dirt driveway winding up the hill that they had been trudging along for almost half an hour now. He had been forced to listen to Hermione's endless chatter about the smell of the large, green pine trees lining the walk, as well as to her laughter at his startled reaction to the cows that he had not noticed were lying in the trees' shade. Now it appeared that she had found some other detail to marvel at in this strange countryside.

"Don't tell me they live underground or something?" he asked, walking towards her.

Hermione shook her head with a smile and pointed to what appeared to be a large, plastic milk carton on a wooden pole. "Don't be silly. No, this is their mailbox, see? Inside I found these letters addressed to a Mrs and Mr W. Wilkins, this has to be them!"

Her eyes were shining as Draco raised his shoulders doubtfully. There must be a million Wilkins around – a single letter didn't prove it was the Grangers. Nevertheless, Hermione gave him no time to question her as she continued briskly up the hill, "Come on, we're almost there!"

With a glance at the large, cobalt-black cow sitting close to the fence – too close for Draco's liking – he set off after her, complaining of the way his backpack always seemed to be heavier.

After what felt like another half hour, though Draco guessed it was probably only ten minutes judging by the way Hermione kept up her swift pace; the couple reached the top of the hill and came face to face with a modest brick house. It was by no means anywhere near as magnificent as his old manor was, with the house covered with a few natural plants that wound up the dark brickwork. A wide path of pebble stones wound around the perimeter of the house, leading to a large woven 'welcome' mat in front of the door.

Draco made to walk straight to the front, ready to investigate, yet was called back by Hermione's wistful sigh. She was once again standing along the fence line, looking out at the view below. Large, green paddocks rolled out along a valley, spreading out towards clumps of trees and a river. The horizon was blocked by large, dark blue mountains in every direction; their tree covered forms reaching up to the sky.

"I imagine those mountains would attract snow in the colder months," she said quietly, eyeing them longingly. A few wisps of brown hair flew across her face in the light breeze, and as she swiped them away, Draco could see her face was glowing with happiness. "It's almost like home in a way, no wonder my parents chose this place."

It was nothing like England as far as Draco was concerned, yet even he could appreciate how quiet and peaceful it seemed.

"I suppose I'd better go and find them then, shouldn't I?" she asked, smiling at him. He smiled encouragingly back, gesturing for her to go ahead.

Hermione slowly walked to the door, rubbing her forearms as she went. She paused for a moment, looking back at him, before reaching up and pressing the brass doorbell on the wall. Immediately, tinkling chimes could be heard from around the house and a dog's bark sounded from within. Hermione hurriedly smoothed down her clothes and stood straighter, her hands falling beside her in an almost soldier-like position.

Reaching forwards, Draco grasped one of her hands, letting her know there was no need to be nervous. He felt her squeeze it as the door creaked open, and again as an old, stooped lady appeared around its edge.

"Oh, hello dear, what can I do for you?" the lady's eyes crinkled behind her glasses as she smiled at them curiously.

She was nothing like the elderly Draco was used to seeing. He was used to stern- looking, straight-backed matriarchs like his mother's mother, Druella – she never looked as though she'd suddenly whip out a fresh batch of cookies like this woman obviously wanted to.

Hermione, finding her voice, quickly replied, "We're sorry to intrude like this, but, erm, I was wondering if Mr Wilkins and his wife lived here?"

The old lady nodded quickly. "Do I detect a British accent? I do! Well, why yes, they do live here. Monica is with the others in the kitchen, but I'll go fetch Mr Wilkins – good man he is, sharing the holiday spirit with the neighbours. Would you like to come in?"

Hermione nodded politely and moved forward into the foyer, letting go of Draco's hand. The old lady smiled fondly at both of them before shuffling off further into the house. A small, white, fluffy terrier bounded about her slippered feet, yapping as she headed towards the kitchen area.

He watched as Hermione began to move from side to side, dancing slightly on her feet. Though he could tell she was trying to still, he caught her trying to peak around the corner of the foyer wall once or twice as the voices and laughter inside grew louder. He didn't blame her, however; for some reason, his own heart began to race, and he found it hard to wait for the woman to return.

"Yes, they're waiting right here, just by the front door. Oh, I didn't catch their names, but the girl seemed rather keen to see you."

Eventually the old woman came back into view, followed closely by a rather tall man. His greying hair was brushed back neatly, and his eyes sparkled curiously behind his wired spectacles. As the man flashed them a small smile, revealing even, white teeth, Draco almost smiled back, realising that his eyes matched Hermione's. This had to be him; finally.

"Yes, can I help you?" the man asked, tilting his head to the side.

Hermione must have been just as pleased as he was, for she didn't immediately answer. Turning to her, he was somewhat surprised to see that her face was crumpled, the light gone from her eyes. Swallowing thickly, she shook her head, trying to find the words she wanted.

"Erm, yes, sorry, are you Mr Wilkins?" Draco asked hesitantly, wondering if perhaps the old lady had gotten the wrong person.

"Yes…"

"I'm sorry, wrong house, excuse us," Hermione interrupted, stumbling backwards out the door.

Draco shrugged as the man looked after Hermione bewildered. "Sorry, erm, long day." Then, ignoring the old lady as she said something along the lines of, "oh dear, I wonder what all that was about?" he rushed out after her.

"Hermione?"

The brunette was over near the fence again, pacing angrily before it. Shadows crossed her face as she muttered darkly under her breath. "Stupid, knew it was too good to be true, stupid, stupid... ouch!" Yelping as she kicked the fence and gained a small electric shock, she picked up a rock and threw it.

Tears began to stream down her face, leaving salty streaks as she glared out at the mountains. Wavering on the spot, Draco tried to think of something comforting to say. He had been sure that perhaps Hermione was right; perhaps this was the place they had been searching for. His own heart had plummeted when he realised their folly – Hermione's must have been wrenched out. Really, what words of comfort could he offer?

He decided instead to walk up to her and stand by her side, watching as her chest heaved up and down. He remained there, watching the scenery in silence, until Hermione's breathing became even.

"C'mon, let's go back to the hotel," she quietly said, heading back towards a shady part appropriate for Disapparition. "We may as well enjoy what's left of today."

"No, let me do it."

Draco linked his arm through Hermione's, knowing she would be too upset to try. He wasn't surprised when she quietly accepted the gesture, despite her usual desire to be in control of their travel. As he turned them together on the spot, he had a last glimpse of the peak of one of the mountains, and an idea formed in his head.

Perhaps he could save their Christmas, or at least make it better.

* * *

"Hermione, can you come in here for a minute?"

"I'm busy."

"C'mon, hurry up, just for a minute."

"Alright, alright. Where are you?"

"In the lounge area."

Draco huffed impatiently as he waited for Hermione to come into the room. She could be so stubborn when she wanted to be, and it seemed now, at the most inopportune time, she was going to be more so than ever.

"This better be important. I'm not your house-elf, you know, I can't come at every call," Hermione grumbled as she walked slowly into the tiny room, her head stuck in a book. "I think there may be a place that – oh Merlin!"

Her eyes widened as she looked up, causing Draco to smirk. Her mouth opened slightly, and it took several moments of rapid blinking before she could manage to say anything else.

"Draco how- what- you did this?"

"No, the house-elves did. Of course I did!" He rolled his eyes, though his smirk widened. "Do you like it?"

Striding forward, she let the book fall out of her hands to the carpet with a dull thud. Her head moved back and forth, trying to find a place to focus on. Finally, she settled for reaching forward and grasping a branch of the small pine tree before her, carefully feeling the bristles between her fingers. Snowflakes fell gently to the floor, clinging to her hair and landing lightly upon her eyelashes.

"It's not exactly the biggest tree, but it was the only natural tree I could find on short notice," he apologised, shrugging his shoulders. "The snow is real though… sort of."

Hermione swung around to face him, her eyes gleaming. Her cheeks were rosy; Draco had the suspicion that they weren't so just from the lights that twinkled on the trees.

"It's- it's- it's beautiful! Just like home…" Hermione cried, running forward suddenly and enveloping him in a fierce hug.

He let out a laugh, stroking her hair. Bending down slightly to wipe off some of the snow from her nose, he murmured into her ear, "Merry Christmas, Granger."


	4. Quite Literally Kidding

_**For the wonderful ChatterChick from chocolatecheesecakes (author of amazing fics such as 'Murder Mystery' and 'Never Test a Rumour').**_

* * *

 **Quite Literally Kidding**

There really was no suitable explanation for why Neville had decided to take a walk outside, fifteen minutes before the beginning of the famed Hogwarts Christmas dinner, across the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts. He pulled on his cloak over his shoulders, jammed a hat onto his head and stowed his trembling hands deep into his pockets.

Maybe it was because it was snowing. Yes, that would be the excuse Neville would use if anyone asked why the Herbology Professor was walking around outside barely fifteen minutes from dinner. Snow changed everything – it turned green to white, smothering the trees and grass and covering everything in an ethereal blanket. If he were late for tea, he would have a simple and worthy excuse.

Neville smiled across at the Lake, remembering days spent chucking snowballs around with his friends, ducking behind trees and hiding within bushes. Although some said that his generation (that being, the generation that helped defeat Voldemort) hadn't had a childhood to speak of, that was far from true.

Although… Maybe they did have to grow up a little too fast. Neville remembered the moment that he lost his innocence in vivid detail, with the acute memories and pain that came with the whole depressing package. He shoved his hands a little further into his pockets, tucking his arms into his sides, trying to keep the cold at bay.

Lily, Harry's only daughter, was sitting at the edge of the Lake next to her cousin Hugo. Neville smiled and shook his head slightly, making a beeline for his goddaughter clean across the grounds, leaving a slightly stilted track of footprints in his wake.

He knew that Hannah would have wanted him to bring his stick out with him, even on a quick walk such as this, but Neville was only in his thirties. He wasn't an old man yet, and his limp was perfectly manageable without a cane to lean on.

"What are you two doing out here on such a cold day?" Neville asked, pausing just behind the two first years, a knowing smile playing on his features. "Got sick of snowballs, eh?"

The cousins jumped at the unexpected voice, but then Lily jumped to her feet, hugging Neville around the middle. "It's Christmas, I can hug you," she said into his stomach. " _Professor_ _Longbottom_."

Neville rubbed at the back of his neck, chuckling lowly. "You can call me Neville outside of school, you know that," he reiterated, for the umpteenth time. Lily never stopped teasing him, calling him by his professional title even over the summer. "And hugs are fine, just not in the middle of Herbology."

"In my defense, Uncle George bet me twelve Galleons to do that," Lily pulled away, crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out.

"That doesn't mean you _should_ ," Neville sighed, hiding a laugh behind his hand. "But in any case, shouldn't you two be up in the Great Hall?"

"Shouldn't you?" Hugo piped up, a curious expression on his still young face. "I mean, you _are_ our Herbology Professor."

"I needed fresh air," Neville justified, grinning openly. "Seriously though, you two get back up there. Hannah will kill me if I let you two get ill out here."

"Hey, is this about the thing Uncle George tried to tell us about?" Lily asked, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes bashfully. "You know, the icky thing. The one that grown-ups like _way_ too much…"

Neville's ears flushed pink, his entire face heating up despite his willing it not to. "Uh, no…" he insisted, reluctantly retracting his hands from his pockets and placing them on a shoulder of each first year, steering them up towards the castle.

"It totally is," Hugo whispered to Lily, his face screwed up in disgust. "Oh god, Uncle Neville and Aunty Hannah are going to do the icky thing later…"

"I am _never_ going to do that when I'm older," Lily said solidly, looking at the snow with a patented glare. "EVER. I mean, ew…"

Neville, who could hear every scrap of this conversation, cleared his throat nervously. "Hurry up or you'll miss the cake!" he improvised hurriedly, face bright red. Luckily the two students seemed to buy his (admittedly pitiful excuse) and sped up their pace, talk of 'the icky thing' forgotten.

Even if the cake hadn't been broken into when they got back into the school, the Christmas dinner was about to begin. Neville had the foresight to quickly return back to his first-floor room, knowing that being a little late was better than being ripped into by his wife for not using a walking aide.

Christmas dinners at home with his aging grandmother were lovely and all, but the conversation was always bland (money this, how bad the youth of today are that, how's that Harry Potter then?) and Neville now had an actual, viable excuse to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday period. And Augusta Longbottom would spend Christmas with Ron and Hermione, so Neville had no reason to feel remorse.

Well… Maybe a little. He was going to see her later on tonight. It was only the dinners he disliked; he did truly admire his grandmother. Still going strong (and yelling strong) at ninety-seven.

"Still no children, I see. In my day, you'd have five children by the time you were thirty…"

"You okay there?" Hannah's voice cut into his thoughts, and Neville nodded, a smile sliding across his face as he took his wife's arm. "Nostalgic much?"

"A little," Neville admitted, glancing at his wife as she pulled him aside, just outside of the Great Hall. "Is everything okay? We're already late."

Hannah rolled her eyes, playfully hitting Neville on the arm. "Stop fussing and listen to what I have to say," she grinned. "It's a good 'un, I swear."

"We…" Neville was cut off as a large burst of laughter burst out of the Great Hall, and he relented, if reluctantly. "Oh, okay then. What do you have to tell me?"

Hannah cracked a small smile, and subtly patted her stomach, raising an eyebrow up at her husband. "Well, do you remember last month?" she began, deliberately teasing him with seemingly useless pieces of information.

"What about last month?" Neville's face scrunched up as he thought. "Well… I started Mandrakes with the second-years…"

"Really?" Hannah dropped the eyebrow, and pulled her arm out of Neville's grasp. "You and your plants. I know I shouldn't have brought you that Pitcher plant for Christmas last year."

Neville's face lit up almost immediately. "Pitcher plants are amazing!" he gushed. "How can you ever top that present Hannah, my god. Whatever you've got me this year is just going to curl up and _die_ in comparison-"

"What about if I said we were getting a kid for Christmas?" Hannah interjected, before Neville's rant about Muggle plants could continue to new and 'exciting' heights. "Well, not for Christmas, obviously, but I guess as I just found out and it _is_ Christmas Day…"

She glanced up again, to see her husband's jaw hanging open, just like it had been last year, when Hannah had presented him with a plant that _digested things_.

Oh. She'd broken her husband, again. This was becoming a regular Christmas scene for the Longbottom family.

"A… A _kid_?" Neville repeated weakly, just in case he'd misheard and this was all a dream. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Why would I kid?" Hannah asked, wrapping her now free arm around Neville's shoulders. "Pun not intended. I'm not lying, Neville. I'm pregnant."

Finally, the Herbology professor seemed to get the hint and slowly began to grin, wider and wider and wider until it seemed like his face might split into two.

"That's amazing!" he almost gushed, grabbing his wife by the shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. "Oh, we have so much to plan for… Like what colour we'll paint the baby's room, and the godparents…"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, now," Hannah laughed, patting Neville on the shoulder and stretching up to give him another kiss. "Now isn't the time for planning. We'll be late for the Christmas feast."

Neville exhaled, eyes still sparkling with excitement. "As long as we can tell people," he said slowly. "I don't think I can hold a secret this big for long at all."

"Neither can I," Hannah replied, biting her lip and glancing into the Great Hall. "Come on then… Hadn't we better get in?"

Neville smiled and wrapped an arm around his wife, before guiding her into the Great Hall, paternal instincts telling him that one wrong move would break Hannah into a million tiny pieces of sprinkled glass.

"Hey, Nev?" Hannah spoke up, when Neville decided to pull her chair up for her as well.

"Yes dear?"

"I'm not going to get a splinter pulling a chair out, love."


	5. Snow Daze

_**Merry Christmas, Summer! I know we share a liking of Severus and I knew the situation I wanted to get him into for this story, but I really couldn't think of anyone I wanted him to play with besides Brie, so I hope you don't mind a Severus/OC story. You seem to like Brie well enough from the HM reviews. :) I've always kind of wanted to give them a little moment to themselves where they aren't plagued by the problems of HM as well.**_

 _ **So, there are two ways to look at this story, pick the one you like: 1) This is sometime before ole' Voldy comes back and Brie and Severus don't have to worry about being seen having fun together... for whatever reason. 2) Both Severus and Albus didn't actually die... somehow, and this is after Voldy's defeat. I leave it to you to decide which option feels better to you. Merry Christmas. :D**_

 _ **This fun fic was written by NovaArbella (author of the magical tales 'Hogwarts' Muggle' and 'Things Forgotten')**_

* * *

 **Snow Daze**

"Brie, no," Severus Snape protested, trying to shake off his Muggle friend, Gabrielle Waters, who was currently pulling on his hand, trying to maneuver him outside into the snow. It was winter break and the castle was all but empty. Only a handful of students and teachers had stayed over the holiday.

Earlier, it had started to snow during the dinner in which only he, Albus, Minerva, and Brie had been in attendance. The remaining students had all been served in their common rooms, negating the need for the House Elves to bother with the house tables in the Great Hall, and for the Professors to have to essentially work on the holiday. It was an idea that had appealed to Severus greatly and he wondered why it wasn't done that way every year.

Now it was several hours and several glasses of wine later and Brie wanted to go out and make a snowman. Severus wanted to go to his rooms and read the new book Albus had given him for Christmas.

* * *

"Oh come on, Severus," she pleaded, pulling with all her might and not even budging him in the slightest. She cursed her small stature as she switched tactics slightly and stopped pulling, dropping his hand in order to circle around behind him so that she could attempt to push instead. It had about as much effect as the pulling had. "Are you using a sticking charm on your shoes or something?" she asked, frustrated. You shouldn't be this hard to move." She'd pulled Severus here and there before, it wasn't usually this difficult.

* * *

"You are the size of a pixie, that is why you can't move me," he said smugly, hiding his wand up his sleeve. He really had just used it to cast a non verbal sticking charm on his shoes. Pixie sized or no, she was unnaturally strong and had almost succeeded in pulling him down the hall with her a minute ago. Her strength and stamina still surprised and impressed him from time to time.

* * *

Brie narrowed her eyes and swooped down to try to unbalance Severus by grabbing one of his legs and pulling it up with her, a technique she'd learned from many hours of Aikido classes, which had been her preferred form of extracurricular sport in high school and on through college. The skills stood her in good stead very often, as her main way of making a living was filming wildlife documentaries around the world, sometimes in dangerous places. A little knowledge of self defense could help solve a whole world of potential problems.

It could also help to tell a Muggle when a wizard was trying to sneak one over on her. "You liar!" she exclaimed when Severus' foot wouldn't lift off the floor. "That should have had you on your back even if you were a two hundred fifty pound linebacker, never mind a six foot tall wizard toothpick. You un-stick yourself right now and come play in the snow with me! It's Christmas snow, which is the best kind of snow."

* * *

"Fine," he huffed, feigning displeasure. If he really couldn't convince her that staying in and enjoying their Christmas gifts was the better option, he didn't really have a problem with going outside instead, he just enjoyed winding her up. She could be hilarious when riled. He wasn't one for playing in the snow, but Brie was, so he could stand to humor her for awhile. It would make her happy and if there was one person left in the world who he would go out of his way to see smile, it was Brie.

As he fell in step beside her, he glanced sidelong, swallowing a chuckle when he noticed that she was still delighting at the holiday decorations, even after all these years of teaching at the school. He had the feeling that she wouldn't soon tire of the never melting icicles and live fairy lights or the ropes of softly singing holly and the dozens of decorated trees scattered all over. In a way, her wonder over the magic there made him appreciate it all over again as well. It sometimes took him back to his first Christmas at Hogwarts. Even though he'd always known he was a wizard, it wasn't until Hogwarts that he'd been exposed to the full blown splendor of things like holiday decorations or magical fireworks displays.

"Aren't you going to go to your rooms for your coat and hat and things?" he asked.

* * *

With a grin back over her shoulder at her stalwart friend she said, "I was actually hoping you might maybe perhaps cast a spell or two over what I've already got on so I don't have to climb all those stairs." Her grin widened when he simply raised an eyebrow. She didn't ask often for spells and charms and knew that it usually amused him when she did. She had a feeling it didn't bother him much because she made sure to only ask for small, silly things, as she didn't ever want him to think that she was his friend simply for what he had the capability of doing for her. It was something she'd been careful about since the rocky start of their unlikely friendship. Right away she'd sensed that Severus' old dislike of Muggles had partially stemmed from expecting them all to gawk and demand 'tricks'.

It had taken years for their friendship to grow into what it was that Christmas and during those years there had been a fair few rocky times and misunderstandings, but they'd always made it through.

* * *

As they reached the front doors, Severus pulled two quills from one of his pockets and transfigured them both into scarves in Slytherin green. He knew a fair few people would object to a Muggle wearing Slytherin colors but those people could all go jump off a broom as far as he was concerned. He'd wasted too much time at the beginning of their acquaintance disliking her simply because she was a Muggle, to worry about what people thought now.

Chuckling at the delight in her eyes as he wound the scarf around her neck, he cast a warming charm over her as well and hoped that she'd never lose that look of marvel whenever she saw him preform even simple spells. Something about it made him feel wonderful inside. It didn't matter to her that he wasn't the most powerful wizard out there and it was a sentiment that was slowly creeping it's way into his own psyche, soothing the raw patches of his youthful beliefs.

There had been a time when the main pursuit in his life had been the gaining and honing of his skills, convinced that it would eventually bring him the power and authority he craved, foolishly hoping it would impress Lily. Even after he and Lily had parted ways in fifth year, he'd still done anything and everything he could to advance himself in the wizarding world, never losing the vague hope that it might have some effect on Lily's opinion of him. Of course, that had backfired horribly on him when he'd realized exactly what he'd gotten himself into when he'd joined the Death Eaters at Lucius' suggestion.

Those thoughts were not thoughts for today though, as they made their way out into the chilly air full of softly falling snowflakes, so he pushed them to the back of his mind. "You're the snowbird," he said, casting warming charms over himself when he felt the frigid breeze sneak up under his robes. "What's on the snow agenda?"

It was Christmas after all. He could stand to give her the present of participation.

* * *

She grinned again when she heard him ask and realized that he did actually intend to get involved in her snow antics this time. Usually he allowed her to drag him outside, but would stand in the snow like a Grinch, with his arms crossed over his chest, refusing to actually do anything. Delighted by the change in routine, she began to roll up a ball of snow, pushing it this way and that way, watching it get bigger with each rotation as it rolled over the clean white powder. With a shrug, he did the same. She assumed that he figured he was making a section of the snowman she had mentioned earlier while trying to entice him out here in the first place.

With a secret smirk she began to chatter away about various Christmases spent in different places around the world. Back before she'd lost him, she and her husband, Rogan, had spent quite a few holidays out filming in the wild, fulfilling their contract with the production company who produced their documentaries. They'd had a fair few adventures that ranged from hilarious to harrowing and Brie would often rehash them for whoever might ask.

As she had hoped, the tales of her adventures distracted Severus and he didn't notice when she abandoned her large ball of snow and started to amass a small barrage of hand sized snowballs. When she had enough ammo, she continued to spin her nature stories while she piled more snow around the sides and top of her large ball, turning it into a solid snow wall. Hiking herself up onto the wall, so that she was sitting at the top, looking down toward Severus, she finished up her story and called, "Hey, Severus," with a big grin on her face and one of the small snowballs hidden behind her back.

* * *

"Yes, Brie?" he answered absently, focused on the lump of snow in his hands which he was trying to make the correct size and shape to be a snowman head. He'd finished the middle part while Brie had been chatting away about her exotic Christmas adventures from a time he privately considered her 'past life'. As usual, the tales she told were both gripping and funny in turns and he'd been listening while building, assuming the ball of snow she'd started making would be the base for their snowman. He was distracted, both listening to Brie and also considering some type of spell he could put on the finished product, to add a bit of magic into the mostly Muggle endeavor, hoping to make her gasp outright. While her wondrous looks looks warmed his soul, her larger astonished reactions fed his ego and he was in the mood for a bit of an ego boost.

When he looked up at Brie's questioning tone, he had a split second to notice that her large ball of snow now looked more like a snow block, before he was hit in the shoulder by the smaller snowball she hurled at him. Instinctively he lobbed the snowman head at her as she dove behind her snow wall with a giggle, giving him time to dart behind his own ball of snow, which he immediately began to fortify, using spells to make the work go more quickly. In no time he had himself a taller snow wall than Brie and his own pile of snow ammo.

* * *

Brie almost called him out for cheating when she saw the bright flashes of spells from behind the large ball of snow, which grew into a mini white castle before her eyes, dwarfing her own, now, pathetic snow mound. As she watched half in wonder and half in a kind of funny outrage, she supposed that her distraction tactics and sneak attack hadn't been completely fair either so she bit her tongue.

Several snowballs flew past her ears as she poked her head up from behind the wall to get a better look at Severus' fort. Ducking back down she grabbed a few of her own and popped up again, dodging another barrage from Severus as she laid siege to the walls of his garrison. The way she saw it, the only chance she had at winning this snow war would be precise and targeted hits, but Severus had built several square holes in his wall and was firing his ammo at her from out of them. It looked hopeless until she noticed that each time he had to bend down to get more snowballs, she could see the side of his face flash by the opening. It took several times popping up, dodging snowballs and lobbing her own for her to be able to hone her newly formed plan for victory.

Once she had her aim dialed in, it was simply a waiting game. Hoping to exhaust his snowball supply, she popped up several times and dodged most of the ones he tossed at her. A few grazed her shoulders and one caught her square in the chest before she saw her opportunity. As she saw him start to bend down for more ammo, she aimed, threw, and hoped as she watched her own snowball sail through the air, into the opening in Severus' wall, to hit him right in the ear. "Gotcha!" she cried happily when his loud curse told her she'd hit her target.

* * *

"Why you little Muggle imp!" he hollered out the opening in his wall, digging slush out of his ear and shivering when some slid down inside his collar. He was rewarded with a snowball to the face and then one to the back of the head when he turned around to wipe the last one off his cheeks and out of his nostrils.

"I give up!" he cried, moving from in front of the window just in time to avoid two more snowballs fired in rapid succession. He grinned as he heard her whoop in victory, silently waving his wand, hovering the rest of his pile of ammo into the air and over to Brie's snow fort. When he was sure they were all above her, he waved his wand again and let them all fall, laughing outright at her cry of surprise, which quickly turned to a cry of pain that made his stomach clench.

* * *

"Ow! Severus, I think you broke my nose with one of those!" she cried, hearing him immediately come crunching through the snow toward her. When his concerned face popped around the fort wall, she let fly with her last remaining snowball, hitting him directly in the chest, leaving mini snow crumbs clinging to the black fabric of his robes. His expression went from concern, to understanding, to outrage, to indulgent submission all in a span of a few seconds as she collapsed onto her back, weak with laughter, holding her hands up in a sign of truce.

* * *

Staring down at her laying in the snow, her breath streaming out in large white clouds, he suddenly realized that he'd just had the best Christmas he'd ever known and it was all thanks to the quirky Muggle jokester in front of him. She'd impatiently banged on his door early that morning, barging in still in her pajamas, with an armful of presents for him. She'd prodded him into going to the Headmaster's office for the pleasant Christmas dinner they had all enjoyed, and she was the reason he was out under the stars, in the softly falling snow, laughing like a loon.

With a contented sigh he slid down to sit beside her while she slowly caught her breath around hiccups and spurts of giggles. "Happy Christmas, Brie," he said, hoping she'd hear everything he was feeling right then in his voice.

* * *

"Happy Christmas, Severus," she replied, looking up at him from her supine position, pleased that he looked perfectly content right then. It was all she ever wished for for him and she'd been wracking her brain for weeks, trying to figure out how to give that feeling to him for Christmas. She was fairly sure she'd succeeded and felt a wave of her own contentment wash over her. Sitting quietly, they studied the star strewn sky for a few minutes.

"Come on," she finally said, pushing herself back up into a sitting position. "Let's go back inside and see if the House Elves have any of that pie left. Then we can read those books Albus got us as presents."

* * *

"Sounds perfect," he replied as he pushed himself to his feet, reaching back down and helping Brie up onto hers as well. It really, truly did.


	6. Someone Special

_**This was written for chocolatecheesecakes, for the Secret Santa Story Swap at Diagon Alley II. Two of her favourite pairings are Dramione and Drarry, while one of my favourite Christmas songs is Last Christmas, originally by Wham!. This is what happened when I put all those ideas together.** _

_**Written by the lovely Sable Supernova, author of must-read fics like 'Wedding Rings' and 'Water.'**_

* * *

 **Someone Special**

 _ **Last Christmas**_

They'd accepted an invitation to go to the Weasleys' on Boxing Day, but today was their first Christmas, and they only wanted to spend it with each other.

They'd woken up early, but in an effort to savour the day, they didn't leave their bed until bid to do so by their stomachs. It was a continental breakfast with fresh coffee. Cheeses and meats, fresh bread and fruit. Harry ruffled his hair sleepily as he smiled at Draco from across his kitchen table.

After they'd eaten, they quickly saw to the washing up and migrated to the living room, where a few small presents were sat waiting under the tree. They'd disagreed over how to decorate the tree. Draco was used to silver and gold decorations only, whereas Harry wanted to fill the tree with colour: bright reds and greens and colourful lights. They'd compromised by choosing a silver and red theme, which they'd extended throughout the living room, with painted pine cones on the mantelpiece and tinsel artfully strewn over the furniture.

Draco had bought Harry a case for his glasses, decorated with the imprints of a moon, a paw print and a stag's antlers. He'd tastefully chosen to leave the rat's tail out. Harry had bought Draco a fine quill, made from the best swan feather, and a selection of nibs, bound in a leather case, for use in the office, where Draco worked on press releases for the Ministry of Magic.

Socks and whiskey, cufflinks and aftershave were all unwrapped, until there was just one present left. It was for Harry, and Draco picked it up and handed it to him. Harry said nothing; there was an electricity in the air that said this one would be special. He read the label attached to the small parcel, taking in the three little words in Draco's elegant hand. He unwrapped the simple brown paper to reveal a simple back box. Inside the box was what at first appeared to be a normal galleon, but on closer inspection, the image embossed on the metal was different. A heart-shaped outline encircled a sleeping dragon, curled around the Malfoy family crest.

"Did you literally just give me your heart for Christmas?" Harry asked, both amused and taken aback.

"Maybe," Draco replied with a grin. Harry leant forward, taking his lover's face in his hands, and placed a gentle kiss on Draco's lips.

"I love it," he admitted. "I love you."

* * *

Boxing Day at the Weasleys' went exactly as one would expect. Despite the impossibly large brood gathered, Molly still managed to make too much food. Laughter and revelry was all around, toxic in the way it spread. Draco and Hermione had been caught up in conversation regarding the latest press release from the Ministry. Hermione was concerned the Ministry were trying to play down recent decisions made with regards to "humanoid creatures" – all animals with the ability to think, reason and feel emotions in the same way as humans for at least two thirds of the time in any given year. They were making progress, but the Ministry seemed reluctant to publicise it.

When they'd reached a satisfactory agreement, Draco decided it was time to find Harry. He'd disappeared with Ron as soon as Draco and Hermione had started talking. He headed towards the living room, a quiet part of the house now most of the family were gathered in the kitchen or garden, and overheard voices.

"No, Harry, we can't. You're with Draco," he heard Ginny's voice say in hushed tones through a crack in the door.

If Draco knew anything, it was that a sentence like that was not a good one. He moved closer, ear towards the slither of light between the doors, and listened.

"But it's tradition," Harry replied, Draco felt as though he could smell the firewhiskey on his breath, hear the grin in his voice. "It doesn't mean anything. It's not my fault we found ourselves stood here, in this exact spot."

Ginny began to giggle, a wine-fueled, girlish giggle, and Draco had to see. He had to know what was going on with his own eyes, despite the gaping pain that opened up in his chest, the knots that tied themselves in his stomach. He stepped closer, moving towards the wall, eyes turned to the three inch gap.

He saw the man he'd given his heart to, only the day before, with his arms around his ex-girlfriend, kissing her.

Draco didn't have it in him to burst through the door and interrupt – he wasn't a Gryffindor. He hastily pulled out a scrap of parchment and his quill – his new quill – from his pocket and began to jot a scribbled note. He dropped the note, with Harry's name on the outside, and the quill, and walked away. He carried on walking – right out of The Burrow and into the street – until he found a spot from which he could Apparrate.

" _H, when I gave you my heart, I thought you'd look after it. If that was too much to ask, you should have given it back. - D"_

* * *

 _ **This Christmas**_

Draco had been dreading the holiday all month, knowing he would be spending it alone. He could go to his parents, he knew, but that felt like failure to Draco, and he'd rather be alone than face that. It was Christmas Eve, the last day in the office, and thankfully it was only a half-day. He'd been writing up the copy for a recent breakthrough in the Muggle Relations Office, Hermione's current department, and she'd come over to check through it and give it the all-clear before the day drew to a close.

"The only thing we'd want you to change is the word 'approve' – we don't have the authority to approve them, we just check them through on behalf of those higher up and save them some paperwork. Change it to 'quality control' or something," Hermione finally said, shrugging, with a deep sigh in her voice that Draco recognised.

"No problem, we'll get it out on the 28th then," Draco replied, eyeing her carefully.

Hermione smiled, but it was weary, like there was something praying on her mind.

"You know it's Christmas and not the end of the world tomorrow, right"? Draco asked, eliciting a genuine smile from Hermione.

"I know. I'm just not really in the festive spirit this year," Hermione admitted.

"Why not?" Draco asked, before adding, as an afterthought, "If you don't mind me asking."

Hermione sighed. "After the horrible break-up with Ron last month, I'm not exactly welcome at the Weasleys' this year, but I didn't tell my parents all the details and they just assumed I'd go there again, so they made plans without me. So basically my plans for tomorrow involve crappy muggle TV shows and ice cream alone."

Draco laughed, unable to pair the image of the fiercely independent Hermione Granger with a girl wallowing in her own despair.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, my plans are to stare at the uncooked turkey in my fridge all day because I can never be bothered to cook for one."

"You not going to your parents?" Hermione asked, curious.

"Somehow, that feels more like giving up than having Christmas alone. Hey, if you felt like it, you could come round. Some company's better than nothing, right?" Draco suggested, offhandedly.

"You know what, usually I'd just say no, but if you're serious, would you mind if I took you up on that?"

"Not at all," Draco replied, and then broke out into a grin. "You can help me cook."

* * *

Despite her initial protestations, Hermione did help Draco cook, and between the two of them, they'd pulled together a half-decent meal. There was turkey, of course; roast potatoes and parsnips, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower and sprouts all covered in cheese sauce; Yorkshire puddings dripping with gravy; and a generous couple of bottles of wine. Draco even managed to rustle up a chocolate fondue for desert with what fruit he had in – Hermione had to admit, while she'd never tried chocolate with guava before, it was rather delicious.

After dinner was eaten and the plates and pots all washed up, they decided the best way to spend the rest of the day was with yet another bottle of wine and the old film, White Christmas.

Just as Bing Crosby began to sing his famous hit, Draco turned to Hermione, sat beside him smiling at the black and white drama.

"Thanks for coming, by the way. This Christmas has been much better than I planned," he told her.

"No worries," she replied with a smile. "I've enjoyed myself."

"Good." Draco smiled back. There was silence for a moment, until Hermione leaned forward to place her wine glass on the table, before shifting in her seat to look at him more directly.

"Actually, I really enjoyed myself today. More than I thought I would. In fact, I'd really like to do this again sometime." She reached out for his hand, a small gesture of companionship that promised more to come.

"I'd really like that, too," Draco smiled back, softly squeezing her hand in return.

"Right now, though, I should go," she admitted, looking a little guilty, but Draco understood.

"Let me see you home," he said, making to stand with her as she fetched her coat.

"It's not necessary, I'll be fine," she protested, not wanting to bother him.

"I know it's not necessary. I'd still like to," he replied.

"Okay," Hermione smiled, thinking of all the times Ron never offered to see her home.

He took her hand as she led them outside to a spot for Apparating, taking them to a small alleyway in the village she called home. They walked together around the block until they were standing in front of Hermione's cottage, a picturesque little bungalow with a wild garden covered in snow.

Draco leant forward, slightly uncertain if he was taking things too far, and placed the gentlest of kisses on her lips, a touch of the fire that was blossoming between them, a promise. Hermione, slightly breathless, smiled, and whispered goodnight.


	7. The Demise of Santa Clause

**The Demise of Santa Claus**

 ** _For Screaming Faeries._**

 ** _This fic was written by Summer Leigh Wind, author of enthralling fics such as 'Proud' and 'One Afternoon.'_**

* * *

Giggling to himself as he peaked into the drawing room his brother, sister and cousins had claimed as theirs for the evening, Alphard hoped that what he was about to do wouldn't interrupt his parents' adult Christmas party downstairs. They'd be awfully cross with him if he forced them to come up.

Taking a breath in anticipation, Alphard leaped into the drawing room. "Ah!" Alphard shouted, putting his cold hands on the back of his sister and cousin's necks.

Startled, Lucretia shrieked. Yanking Lucretia away from him, Walburga howled in outrage. She pointed her wand at Alphard in a threatening manner, the fact she couldn't use it without risking a letter from the Improper Use of Magic Office completely forgotten in the face of her missed heartbeat.

Pushing the useless wand away from his face, Alphard laughed at them. "You - ha! Your faces!" he said as he went to take a seat in the armchair parallel to the doorway which he'd jumped through.

"You're so immature, Alphard! When will you stop doing such ridiculous things to get a rise out of others? You'll be going to Hogwarts next year! No seemly pureblood should behave in such a way!" Walburga lectured as she gestured to her side, where Lucretia sat mute, eyes wide and then, to behind them where Cygnus was playing chess with their other cousin, Orion.

"Walburga's right," Cygnus called as he destroyed one of Orion's pawns. "If Mater gets a letter about you losing points or detention for a joke like that you better be ready for a Howler. She's told us and told us if we are not model students we should expect the worst."

Alphard pulled a face. "It was just a bit of fun," he grumbled.

"Father says boys who are mean to girls get a visit from Krampus," Orion remarked as he used a bishop to take out Cygnus's rook.

Walburga frowned and looked to Lucretia.

The girl smiled in an embarrassed manner before she leaned in to explain in a whisper to Walburga, "It's something we learned about in Austria during the couple years we lived there before Orion was born. I think Father thought he needed something a little extra to keep a boy in line around Christmas."

Nodding, Walburga asked Orion, "What does this Krampus do to naughty boys?"

An anxious light came to the his eyes. Glancing around as if he was afraid the legendary being would appear from one of the shadows, Orion said, "He whips you with a switch. Then, if you aren't sorry enough after that, he kidnaps you and takes you to his lair where he beats you even worse until you learn your lesson."

"Wow! That's scary!" Alphard exclaimed, though, he looked more fascinated than actually frightened by what his younger cousin had told him. "Is he real? Or is he just a story like Santa Claus?"

Lucretia tensed beside Walburga while Orion scrunched his nose. "They're both real!" he snapped.

"No they aren't!" Alphard argued. "Santa's not real! It's just Mater who puts the presents under the tree or coals in our stockings!"

"Are too!" Orion shouted vehemently as Walburga began to wonder how a nine year old boy still believed in a man who snuck into homes to leave things rather than take them.

"Orion…Alphard…" Lucretia pleaded ineffectually as she leaned forward in her seat.

Sighing, Cygnus knocked out another of Orion's chess pieces before loudly declaring, "Santa is as fake as yetis. And Alphard? Of course Krampus is just a story. Do you really think parents would let some man kidnap their children to punish them? Think, would you? You're older than I. You shouldn't be taken by such fanciful things."

"Oh, belt up," Alphard grumbled.

Looking between Alphard and Cygnus, Orion then turned big, gray eyes on Lucretia and Walburga. "Santa's fake?" he whispered in a wavering tone.

Frowning, Walburga watched Lucretia bite her lip before mumbling, "Orion…"

"No," the boy whimpered. "You're all lying!" he cried, springing up from his seat.

Alphard made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "No we aren't! You're just being a baby!"

"I'll prove it!" Orion proclaimed, determined. "I'll go get Mother, she'll tell you all to stop lying or Krampus will get you!" Chin raised high, the boy marched out of the room. Left alone to look silently amongst themselves now, they waited to see who'd be the first to speak.

Lips twitching into a smile, Alphard asked, "Think he'll make a scene when he finds out?"

"Maybe," Cygnus replied as he began to put the chessboard pieces back in their starting positions. "I guess this game's over," he said, sounding mildly disappointed. "Orion won't want to finish when he's pouting about Santa not being real."

Walburga nodded in agreement. Orion did have a way of sulking when things weren't in his favor, she had to say. Then, eyeing her cousin, Walburga asked Lucretia, "Why does Orion still believe in Santa Claus? Isn't he a bit old for it? Cygnus stopped believing ages ago."

Lucretia looked to her hands.

"He's the baby. Mother thought it was sweet he believed and didn't want him to know the truth. And you know Father, he likes to keep Mother happy."

"I'm not going to coddle my sons like that," Walburga said, feeling quite disgusted at the idea of having a nine, almost ten, year old boy who believed in Santa. That was too old. It was almost Hogwarts age! What if Alphard and Cygnus hadn't broken it to Orion? He could have made it to eleven still believing in a children's tale and made the Black family the laughing stock of Slytherin!

Fiddling with one of the chess board's queens, Cygnus inquired, "What about Krampus?"

Walburga pursed her lips and glanced to Alphard. The boy was watching them, face clearly amused and not at all guilty. "Well, if they believe in him that might be okay," she decided. "If they're as much trouble as Alphard, I'll need as many tricks up my sleeve as I can get!"

"Hey!"

Chuckling, Cygnus told Alphard, "She's right! If they're like you at all, Walburga is going to need a thousand and some tricks to shape them into boys worthy of our family name!"

Joining in with her brother's laughter, Walburga ignored Alphard's loud complaints and just hoped that if and when Orion returned, he would know they weren't laughing at him. The poor boy's night was already ruined, he didn't need to think they thought he was lesser too for the truths his family purposefully hid from him.

* * *

 _ **A/N: I hope you liked this piece, Screaming Faeries, I went out on a limb a bit here with the fact you don't really specify which characters from the earlier Black generations that you enjoy. I know you've written a few pieces on Walburga and Orion and hoped that a fic with them would fulfill your requirements and be enjoyable!**_

 _ **Thanks for reading and merry Christmas :)**_


	8. The Many Christmases of Remus Lupin

**_The Many Christmases of Remus Lupin_**

 _ **A/N: This fic was written for the lovely Nova Arbella, who I believe adores Remus Lupin (I mean, don't we all?). Unfortunately, the fic is not yet completed, and this is merely a sneak peak into the other parts that are to come - the concept is by one author and written by another, the former whom will probably take over with the rest. For now, though, I hope this is not too cheesy, makes sense, and more importantly, that everyone had someone special with whom to spend this special time of the year with. Merry Christmas Nova!**_

* * *

 ** _This first part was written by whitetiger91~_**

* * *

 ** _December 24_** ** _th_** ** _, 1966_**

Remus pressed his nose against the cool glass of the window, watching as a small cloud of his breath fogged up the window. There wasn't much snow outside; save for the few flakes that drifted in with the wind; yet that did not stop the children outside running up and down the street below, screaming with excitement at the prospect of a snowball fight later in the evening. How he longed to be able to go down there and participate in their innocent activities.

"Remus, are you alright?"

Jumping back from the window, Remus hurriedly fixed a smile upon his face just as his mother around his bedroom door. There was not much he could do about the random spasms that rocked his body, nor cool down the high temperature of his forehead. Still, he ignored his aching muscles and sat up straighter in his bed.

"I'm fine, mother, just a little tired," he said, faking a yawn. Then, seeing that his mother still wore an anxious expression, quickly added, "You know, from waiting up to see Father Christmas last night."

"I see." Striding forward, his mother came to sit at the edge of his bed. She extended her hand towards him, stroking his hair gently. "Father and I were just a little worried, that's all. Usually you're the first one up – six o'clock last year, if I remember correctly – and tearing through your stocking pile."

Remus had to look away from the intensity of her blue eyes, knowing that she was fully aware of the full moon that would occur in just two days' time. Adults always knew things like that – when he had hidden his peas underneath his mashed potato, when he hadn't had a bath because he was too busy playing instead; everything he had wanted kept quiet. This time, Remus had even gone to the lengths of cutting the weather reports out of The Daily Prophet that week, just to be sure. Yet it didn't matter, and now she would know, too, that he was feeling down because of the oncoming transformation, and Christmas would be spoilt. It was bad enough that his legs ached too much for him to go downstairs and help with the food – his mother had even promised this year that she would teach him how to make the fruit punch.

Fiddling with the hem of his quilt, he tried to come up with an excuse. "Erm, yeah, I just- I just wanted to wait. I mean, I have all day to play with my presents."

"It's almost one o'clock in the afternoon."

"Oh."

"Tell you what, you wait here and I'll go and fetch you some dinner," his mother said, placing a kiss on his sweaty forehead.

She slowly walked out the door, pausing at the frame for a moment. Remus resisted the urge to squirm and scratch at his skin, hoping that she wouldn't feel the need to stay behind and waste the rest of her day fussing over him. Finally, he could no longer feel her gaze upon him and relaxed slightly.

The children below had evidently been called back to their homes, for he could no longer hear their merry voices. Charlotte was probably having dinner with her two older brothers – presumably avoiding the mashed pea assault that usually came her way during meal times. The next day, however, she would probably still follow them up and down, hoping to join in on their antics with the other boys. Tommy Lee and Julian were probably colouring in their new books, or playing with the toy train set their father had secretly bought them, despite their mother saying they were too naughty this year for presents.

Sighing heavily, Remus pulled his quilt cover up to his neck. He had never played with those children, let alone spoke to them before. He was sure that he would spoil their fun in some way – or rather, the wolf inside would. Instead, he shamefully stayed within his bedroom walls playing with his toys, waiting for the children to come out.

His mother's cheerful humming broke into his thoughts before they became too dark, and he turned towards the door to see her entering the room. She was carrying three large platters – the third balanced precariously on the crook of her arm – that were laden with all kinds of meat and steaming vegetables. Carefully, she placed one of the platters on the end of his bed, and the other two upon the small table beside it.

Remus tilted his head, wondering why there was so much food. Did his mother think eating would help quell some of his pain? Or, as he hoped, did she really believe that he was simply too tired from a night of Santa watching to come down?

His question was answered not a moment later when his father appeared around the corner, carrying in his hands a small pile of wrapped parcels.

"If the boy is too tired to come to the presents, the presents shall come to him," his father said with a sly wink.

Remus' cheeks felt hot and he ducked his head, smiling. Then, as his mother prompted him, "go on, open them up," he felt his energy pick up enough to being to rip open the brown paper of the first present.

"Merry Christmas, Remus," his mother and father chorused, enveloping him in a hug.

Later, as his eyelids became heavier and heavier, and he could eat no more, Remus couldn't have felt happier. His parents had remained by his bed, holding each other contentedly as they quietly sang a few favourite carols. They did not at all seem as though their Christmas had been spoilt, and neither had his.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Sorry to interrupt here, but the rest of the story has now been completed by the original secret santa (aka the one who came up with the concept. Aka GeekyLola, author of exciting fics like 'Evelyn's Story: The Goblet of Fire' and 'Burned'. Merry Christmas!)_**

* * *

 **Christmas, 1977**

Remus woke tired and pained despite the fact that he'd slept nearly all of Christmas Eve, waking only to stuff his face with extremely rare meat. Today, of all days, was the full moon and though the wolf had threatened to ruin many Christmases since he was first turned, it had never taken the actual day from him. Never, until tonight.

" _Moony, we'll still run with you. You can't honestly think we won't," James had quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at his friend days ago when Remus had informed the Marauders of his predicament._

" _You've got families to spend the holiday with. The wolf might ruin my Christmas, but it doesn't have to ruin yours as well," Remus had urged._

" _We all know I haven't got any family to go home to besides you three," Sirius stated pointedly, while still managing to look positively bored with Remus' lamenting._

" _Mum and Dad would like to spend Christmas somewhere warm so they've gone off to an island somewhere," James waved a dismissive hand._

" _I can spend the day with my parents and the evening with you guys," Peter offered._

" _But –"_

" _No 'buts', Moony! We'll be there around five. See you Christmas," James shut him down._

" _We promise to bring lots of chocolate," Sirius laughed._

 _The four boys had exited the train, then and apparated off James and Sirius walked off together to the Potter Estate and Peter went off to his family's small country home. Remus had watched them go, the all too familiar feeling of gratitude settling in his chest._

Glancing at the clock on his wall he realized he only had two hours before the rest of the Marauders showed up at his door. His parents had let him sleep in.

Remus closed his eyes and sighed before finally swing his legs from under his blankets and setting them on the floor. Standing, he stretched and grimaced and his muscles cried out in protest.

"Remus?" His mother's kind voice called from just outside the door. He wondered how many times she'd walked past and listened for signs that he was awake.

"Come in," he answered and then turned to greet her when he heard the door open. "Happy Christmas, Mother."

A smile lit up her face and almost masked her worried eyes. "Happy Christmas, darling," she answered, quickly closing the distance between them. She placed a tiny hand on each side of his face and with his help managed to place a soothing kiss upon his forehead. "Did you sleep well?"

"Quite well," he lied even though he knew she could see through him so clearly he might as well be made of glass.

Hope was kind enough not to call him on it. "I've made dinner. All your favorites; and your meat is extra rare," she added softly.

"I'll be right down, just have to get dressed."

"Don't take too long. You've still got to open your presents."

"I told you and Father I didn't need anything for Christmas."

"Oh, hush now, Remus," Hope scolded lightly. "We're your parents. It's Christmas. Of course we've got you a few things. That's like expecting us not to get you anything for your birthday." With that, she turned and walked to the door. She paused, barely a moment, but long enough for Remus to catch it, before she pulled the door closed behind her.

He waited until he could no longer hear her feet on the stairs, afraid she might catch him groaning and stumbling around as he tried to put clothes on.

It took him nearly thirty minutes to dress himself and another ten to get down the stairs. When he entered the tiny living room Lyall and Hope greeted him with forced jubilation. They always tried to pretend the wolf did not take its toll on them, but he saw it. Each month they got a little paler, a little thinner, and the bags under their eyes grew. If not for his friends they would both look like skeletons.

Remus put on his best smile all through present exchange. He'd only been able to buy something for his parents thanks to James' generosity. The raven haired boy had practically forced the galleons into his hands. When Remus had opened his mouth to protested James threaten to toss him in the Black Lake if he tried.

When the presents were all opened and the trash cleared from the floor, Lyall and Hope ordered Remus to stay where he was seated on the family's sagging couch. From his seat, he could hear the clinking of dishes as his parents bustled around just past his line of sight.

He didn't really need to see what they were doing, however. The wolf brought with it a sense of smell so acute Remus could picture every move his parents made just by following their scents. His mother was taking pile after pile of food off of the stove and setting it on the table. His father was grabbing the plates and cups, which always sat just out of his mother's reach.

Without realizing it, Remus closed his eyes and watched the scene in his family's small kitchen play out on the back of his eyelids. He should be in there. They should not have to accommodate the monster inside their son.

"Dinner is served!" Lyall boomed.

Remus opened his eyes to find his father carrying two trays of food with a giant smile on his face. He was being followed close behind by Hope, who was also carrying a tray of food, his tray, to be more specific. Remus could tell because it was the only plate with meat that was still red. Just the sight of it made his mouth water and self-loathing burn in his gut.

He tore into the meat anyway, and with each bite he found the pain in his muscles was growing. Finally, when he could ignore it no longer, Remus set his tray aside with shaking hands and tried to stand.

"Remus?" Hope eyed him fearfully.

Remus' legs gave out and he buckled under the weight of his pain. Doubling over, he gripped the floor and groaned.

Remus knew he was too far gone to be able to get himself out of the house or down to the basement. Even as his heart pounded in his ears and his blood began to feel like glass in his veins, Remus tried to drag himself from his parents, praying the monster would not take them from him.

He felt so stupid. He had been so busy wallowing in his misery and bemoaning his parent's ruined holidays, that he'd forgotten the most important thing. He'd forgotten to protect them from the wolf. He'd forgotten to watch the time.

Suddenly two pairs of strong arms gripped him by his arms and hauled him to his feet.

"I thought we had a date, Moony," James' voice cut through his thoughts.

"We'll take it from here, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin. You look lovely by the way." Remus managed to turn his head just enough to watch Sirius, supporting half his body weight, smile and a wink at his mother.

"Please be careful," Hope called after the four boys.

"We'll keep him safe," Peter promised.

"Have a good night, Lupins. We'll see you in the morning!" James called.

The Marauders pulled him further and further away from his family into the safety of the woods behind their house. As the cool air hit his overheated skin and cleared his mind for the last time that night Remus realized that he would never be able to repay them for saving his parents, or for saving him.

* * *

 **Christmas, 1980**

Remus was tired. He could also use a shower and probably a shave. But none of that mattered. Nothing but this day mattered. He knocked on the door to the Potter home and heard the muffled voice of Lily Potter as she made her way to the door.

"It must be Remus. Sirius never bothers to knock." She was still giggling when the door opened.

"Happy Christmas, Lily," Remus smiled at the redhead.

"Happy Christmas, Remus," Lily answered, pulling him into a warm hug.

"I'm sorry I smell so bad."

"Well, go upstairs and have a shower then. You know where the towels are and we've got some of your clothes tucked away. I'll set them outside the door for you." Lily ordered.

"I couldn't," Remus began to protest.

"You'd better do what she says, Moon," James walked over, wiping spit up off of his shirt. "Now that she's a mother she doesn't take no for an answer."

"Did she ever?" Remus teased.

"Oh, and I was just beginning to think I actually missed you," Lily grumbled. "Now, I believe I said to get in that shower, mister." She used her best mothering voice and even added a point towards the stairs.

"You were right, Prongs. It's like a dictatorship in here," Remus laughed, easily dodging a swat Lily aimed at his arm. "All the gifts are in my bag," he added gesturing to the satchel he'd set beside the door while they were greeting each other.

"Would you go shower already? Harry's heard your voice and he's getting antsy." James shooed.

Tossing up his hands in defeat, Remus disappeared up the stairs. He paused at the linen closet to grab a towel and then rushed into the bathroom, finally admitting to himself just how desperate he was for the shower.

The second the water grew warm Remus stepped inside, sighing appreciatively as the hot water soothed his aching muscles. He only allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the feeling before he scrubbed all the dirt acquired from his last Order mission away.

When he stepped out and checked outside of the door, Lily had indeed placed the clothes he'd left last time he'd stayed over. She'd also left a note ordering him to leaving the clothes he'd arrived in so she could wash them and have them there for him in case he needed them next time he was over.

Chuckling, Remus did as he was told. Replacing his current clothes with the clean ones and changing before making his way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom he could hear voices coming from the kitchen and followed them.

"Say 'Padfoot'," Sirius instructed, squatting down in from of a very amused baby Harry.

"Pa-pa-pa," Harry clipped his chubby little hands together and then laughed.

"Prongs, you've made a defective one," Sirius joked.

"Maybe he just doesn't like you," Remus interjected.

"Mooney!" Sirius stood and opened his arms jovially. Remus began towards him but suddenly Sirius dropped his arms. "Did you just say he doesn't like me? Of course he likes me. I'm his favorite Godfather."

"You're his only Godfather," Lily correct with a laugh.

"Which is exactly why I'm his favorite."

Remus walked up to Sirius and clapped him on the back, receiving a half hug in response. "Where were you off to this time? You managed to keep your hair looking great."

"It's a gift, really." Sirius stroked his locks lovingly. "You look like hell."

"You always did know to make guy feel good," Remus smirked before turning his attention to Harry who was watching him expectantly. "He must've gotten all his looks from you, Lil."

"Hey!" James feigned insult.

"Can you say 'Mooney'?"

"Moo," Harry managed before offering a toothless smile.

"Pads might be right, Prongs. He's defective."

"He's not defective!" Lily scowled at Remus and then Sirius. "He's just waiting until after he's said 'mum' first."

"You mean 'dad'."

"No, I definitely meant 'mum'."

"Anybody home?" Peter called from the next room.

"Finally, Wormy. We thought we'd have to do presents without you," Sirius chided on his way to the living room.

Remus moved to allow Lily to pick up Harry, then he and the Potters all made their way into the next room to greet Peter.

"Happy Christmas, Peter!" Lily chimed, offering her usual hug.

"Happy Christmas, Lily. Happy Christmas guys," Peter added in his usual jumpy voice.

"Good to see you, Wormtail," James smiled.

"Peter," Remus smiled, offering a nod by way of greeting.

"Alright, can we do presents now?" Sirius urged, grabbing the gifts he'd brought and settling onto his favorite chair.

"You're such a child," Lily laughed, but signaled for James to grab the presents they'd bought as well before making her way to the couch with Harry and sitting down.

Remus followed behind his friends, grabbing his satchel full of gifts and sitting on the other end of the couch. Peter was the last of the friends to take a seat and he did so in his same jumpy and unsure manner.

Most of the gifts, of course, were for Harry. Peter got him clothes, and then worried over the fact that they were a bit too big until Lily assured him Harry would grow into them in no time. Remus had given him The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a book his father had read to him when he was younger. Lily had been very pleased with the selection while James just teased that he would go for the educational gift. Finally, Sirius presented him with a stuffed Quaffle.

"My son is going to be a Seeker, Padfoot," James frowned at the Quaffle.

"You don't even know that he'll like Quidditch," Lily reminded her husband.

James and Sirius turned to her with matching stares of disbelief. Even Remus had to admit it was hard to imagine Harry not falling in love with the sport. As if to punctuate this disbelief Harry began playing quite excitedly with the little stuffed Quaffle, taking great pleasure in the act of throwing it between himself and anyone willing to throw it back to him.

"Well, his catching could use some work, but he's got quite the throwing arm," James laughed as he watched his son. Harry had thrown the ball a bit forcefully in his father's direction, but had missed it when it was tossed back towards him.

"A bit of training and he'll be just as good as you," Peter offered.

"Looks like training will have to wait until tomorrow," Remus smiled as Harry dropped the Quaffle and yawned.

"Okay, let's get you to bed," Lily readjusted Harry in her arms and stood. "Remus, bring his new book. You can read a story while he falls asleep."

Remus paused for a moment before her words fully registered. "Right," he answered, grabbing the book and following Lily up the stairs.

He read Harry the very first story from the book, The Wizard and the Hopping Pot, even though his personal favorite was The Fountain of Fair Fortune. He knew Harry would be asleep before he got far, a guess that was proved correct minutes later when he'd not even gotten through the second page.

Remus sat the book beside Harry's crib and smiled down at the small boy.

"When are you going to find a nice girl to settle down with?" Lily questioned, sounding very much like his mother.

"You know I could never ask a woman to suffer through this curse with me," Remus turned to his friend. The conversation was one they'd had more than once and each time his answer was the same, yet Lily always tried to make him believe he was wrong.

"If you find a woman who loves you, she won't be suffering."

"You think that, and maybe so will she at first. But I watched this monster eat away at my parents for years. Even when they smiled I knew they were suffering."

"We don't suffer," Lily countered.

"And that is why you, the Marauders and Harry are the only family I need."

"Remus-"

"Lily, I will not risk someone else getting hurt for me. If I could stop James, Sirius and Peter I would, but arguing with them is like arguing with a brick wall."

"I just want you to be happy," Lily assured him.

"I am happy. The only way I could be happier is if this war were over already," Remus smiled. "I may not trust myself to have a wife, or children, but being an uncle and having you all is more than I ever dreamed I could have."

Lily smiled, tearing up a bit before she quickly blinked them away. "One day I will convince you," she sighed, finally conceding.

Remus chuckled quietly as they made their way out of the nursery. "I doubt it, but I don't expect you to ever stop trying."

When the two descended the steps they found Sirius smiling as he poured several glasses of fire whiskey. He held out two generously filled glasses for them and after a moment's hesitation both Lily and Remus accepted. The rest of the evening passed with good whiskey and lots of laughter.

The next day everything would change. Remus would head off on another Order mission, and within the year he would lose nearly everyone he's ever cared about. But that night he was the happiest he'd been in his twenty years of life.


	9. With Family

_**To OnyxFeather,**_

 _ **Merry Christmas, hope you are enjoying the holidays!**_

 _ **from ChatterChick, amazing author of fics such as 'Breath of Life' and 'A Cure for Nargles'.**_

* * *

Trust Bellatrix to make Christmas all about herself.

For once, Andromeda didn't mind that her oldest sister managed to steal the spotlight. Bellatrix couldn't share the attention, especially on a day like Christmas. Her boyfriend, now fiancé, had proposed over a week ago, but she was only telling people now. She had shown up with a large ring on her finger that immediately caught everyone's attention.

Andromeda quietly speared her cooked carrots at the Black family Christmas dinner and hoped the attention remained on Bellatrix for once. She really wasn't in the mood for her family's well-meaning, but nosy, questions about her life.

"We're going to have it on the winter solstice next year," Bellatrix informed them, showing off her new engagement ring.

Mother, Aunt Walburga and Narcissa all eagerly inspected it and ooh'ed and ahh'ed over it. Even Andromeda made a great show of being interested.

The onyx ring sat on Bellatrix's left hand. It was set with an elegant white gold ban and tiny diamonds surrounded the square cut gem, sparkling under the candlelight. The gem itself was beautiful, but rather dark and ominous for an engagement ring. Andromeda thought it perfectly fitting for her sister and her soon-to-be husband, Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Andromeda will be my maid of honour," Bellatrix continued, "and Narcissa will be one of my bridesmaids and Rodolphus' sister will be the other."

"Of course," Andromeda agreed, rather half-heartedly. Depending how things went in June, Bellatrix might rethink her decision to have Andromeda at the wedding, let alone as her maid of honour.

"What about you, Andromeda," Aunt Walburga turned the attention away from Bellatrix for a moment. "Will you be bringing home a young gentleman any time soon? You're nearly finished with Hogwarts and now's the time to start thinking about such things."

"Not in the foreseeable future," Andromeda said, using a haughty tone that mimicked her sister's. "I've been so busy with N.E.W.T.s that I haven't had the time to think about dating. I'm sure once I'm done school I'll find someone. I am a Black after all."

It was lies, of course, but Andromeda had always been the studious sister and it served her well now. Bellatrix was naturally talented and achieved great feats of magic with little effort. Narcissa had an amazing memory and could listen once and never have to review the material again. Andromeda's good grades came from hours of hard work and practice. She was often in the library and it didn't surprise anyone around her to hear that she was so caught up in her studies that she neglected having a love life.

Little did they know, she didn't spend her time alone in the library.

"True, but you won't be young forever dear," Aunt Walburga coolly informed her, "and if no one takes you, we'll have to marry you off to Sirius here or you'll be alone and childless."

Andromeda held her tongue. Likely that was what had happened to Aunt Walburga, who was five years older than her husband and first cousin, Orion Black.

Apparently the conversation had made Sirius uncomfortable because he responded by flicking a spoonful of gravy across the table at Narcissa. Andromeda welcomed the distraction and chaos that only her younger cousin could bring.

"Sirius!" Narcissa shrieked.

Aunt Walburga's eyes narrowed on her wayward son. Sirius had a smug look on his face and Andromeda doubted anything that her aunt could say right now would change that. "When we get home I'm going to make sure you can't sit for a week – !"

"Oh, don't be so harsh on the boy," Uncle Orion chided Aunt Walburga. He had had a bit too much elf wine and was sounding rather jolly. Ruffling Sirius' hair fondly, he continued, "He's just spirited! Bellatrix was the same way at his age and look where she's now. It'll serve him well when he's sorted into Slytherin. The weak willed don't survive and our Sirius is anything but weak."

Andromeda didn't think the comparison to Bellatrix was a good one, but it seemed to ease Aunt Walburga's mind about Sirius.

Christmas dinner passed smoothly without any incident after that. Conversation shifted to Uncle Alphard's recent trip to India and he brushed aside any attempts to suggest he settle down with a wife and children.

As per tradition, the five Black cousins stood together for a family photo later that evening in front of the Christmas tree.

Andromeda stood between her sisters, their arms wrapped around each other. Sirius and Regulus stood in front of them. Bellatrix put her free hand on Sirius' shoulder while Narcissa put hers on Regulus'. The five of them smiled up at the camera Uncle Alphard used to capture the picture. He promised to make copies in his dark room and send them out to everyone.

* * *

Andromeda sat on the bed, looking at the photo from the Christmas before. It had been the last time her entire family had been together. She didn't regret her decision to leave most days, but with Christmas approaching and all the hype about family and loved ones, it made her nostalgic for her own.

"Andy," Ted cautiously interrupted. He leaned in the doorway to their room. "A letter arrived for you."

Surprised, and a bit wary, Andromeda accepted the letter Ted handed her. After leaving her family to elope with Ted, Andromeda found she had very few friends left in the world. All of her old school friends were Pureblood, Slytherin girls with the same ideals as her parents and they had abandoned her too.

 _Dear Andy,_

 _Happy Christmas! It's me, Sirius -_

"It's from my cousin, Sirius," Andromeda informed him, feeling less wary as she read the cheerful letter. The corners of her eyes stung as she read over and over about Sirius' adventures at Hogwarts. Apparently he had been sorted in Gryffindor and caused quite the stir among the family. "He's staying with the Potters for the holidays this year, but would like to visit us."

"Do you want to see him?" Ted asked. Her husband was sweet to worry, but Andromeda knew she wouldn't fall to pieces over a visit with her cousin. If anything, it would be nice to see a member of her family over the holidays. She was spending the holiday with the Tonkses and while Ted's muggle parents had welcomed Andromeda into their family with open arms, it was uncomfortable at times.

"I would like that, yes," Andromeda agreed. "We can invite him over for tea on Boxing Day. I imagine the Potters have things planned for the boys Christmas day."

She smiled as she folded the letter, listening as Ted wondered out loud what present they could get a twelve year old wizard. Her parents and her sisters may want nothing to do with her, but this year she would be celebrating with her family all the same. Sirius, Ted, and even her in-laws.

And this time next year, they would be celebrating with a new member.


	10. A Christmas Gift Framed in Gold

_**For the amazing Laura (Sable Supernova), Merry Christmas!**_

 _ **This fic was written by OnyxFeather, author of fantastic works such as 'Dementor' and 'Castle of Sin.'**_

* * *

 **A Christmas Gift Framed In Gold**

Christmas is a time for giving. Being centuries old, I have gifted many. Some more memorable than others…

* * *

 ** _11_ _th_ _December 1892_**

 _Muggle-hater._

 _Muggle-murderer._

 _Muggle-mutilator._

 _The taunts were increasing in their inaccuracy as well as their barbaric nature. Albus grew tired of the constant sniping. Yes, he treated them as though they were little more than grossly misleading falsifications, but the words stung all the same. So far, Albus had to admit that his experience of schooling had not been a positive one. He hoped, at the very least it would provide an escape from his equally damning reality back in Godric's Hollow. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out exactly as he had hoped. As much as he tried to hide his disappointment, he wondered whether his mother sensed it in his letters._

 _Once again, Albus had chosen to escape the hustle and bustle of the evening dining hall to wallow somewhat in his own company. Well, perhaps not entirely alone, a good book always helped alleviate the solitude. He had taken a quiet liking to transfiguration. If only he could use it to transfigure his father's poor reputation._

 _Professor Fenwick marched past Albus across the opposite staircase. Being incredibly agile, he managed to duck behind a pillar at the very moment Professor Fenwick twisted his oblong head, his unnaturally horizontal moustache quivering from its two triangular corners, as if they sniffed the scent of trouble hovering in the air. Keen not to blemish his pristine record, Albus turned the nearest corner and slid through the first door he could find._

 _"Hm…I've never come across you before," he mentioned, curiously eying the ornate sight before him._

 _Inside, he saw an older version of himself – there was no mistaking that twinkle behind the half-moon spectacles. Intrigued by the strange phenomenon, he inched closer. Notable historians and researchers stood in a line, waiting to shake his hands. That could not be – the Minister of Magic? A look of awe coloured their features as they urged to shuffle forward._

 _"I suppose that is the answer, isn't it?"_

 _He knew exactly what needed to be done._

(That night I gifted young Albus the gift of hope. Hope for a brighter future.).

* * *

 ** _19_ _th_ _December 1967_**

 _So Bellatrix cast a harmless bone-cracking hex on that Mudblood fifth-year. Nasty slug! Dare he challenge her authority? A well-deserved lesson was in order and who better to deliver it. In return she had been awarded her twelfth detention this term. Not that she cared much for education._

 _Soon to be Lady Lestrange, as a female she had fulfilled her obligation in life. NEWTs were simply an inconvenient formality. Therefore, she took it upon herself to celebrate this Christmas. Finally there would be a worthy heir to her father's fortune. An occasion such as this called for Odgen's finest firewhisky._

 _Who cared for the hour? Merrily, Bellatrix skipped and twirled through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, singing in soprano. "Jingle bells, Kringle smells…something, something…awaaayyyyy…wiheee–"_

 _Most ungracefully, she stumbled over the threshold and somehow pirouetted with the momentum that carried her into the empty classroom. She froze as she caught sight of a silver gleam, tilting her head – a lock of black curls fell across her face – she said, "Well, what do we have here?"_

 _A lean, middle-aged man with a finely shaped beard no longer than his chin, stood majestically in a grey tail suit. "Lord Cygnus Black, patriarch to the most esteemed pureblood heritage. Come to dismiss me, your disappointment-of-a-firstborn, have you?"_

 _Bellatrix allowed the bottle in her hand to slip through her fingers and stared at her father with a look of exaggerated shock and mock humility. "How terribly discourteous of me – did I forget to bow?"_

 _She arched her back in a deep bow, holding the hem of her robes in her fingers, giggling to herself as she crossed her feet. "Whooops!" The heel of her right boot wobbled, sending her tumbling to the ground. "Well, I suppose this is the perfect place for such an abomination as myself. After all, I fell in your eyes the very day my dear mother gave bir–"_

 _"Wait, is that? No. It can't be. Can it?"_

 _Bellatrix placed a hand against the cool, hard silver sheet, her nose resting against it. Sliding her weight against her sweaty palm, she dragged herself to a standing position._

 _It was a trick._

 _"You – smiling – me…"_

 _Of course it was. Made to torture her with hopes she could never have. Yet still, she found she could not turn away from it. If she were with her senses she would have shattered it by now, for lying to her, tormenting her!_

 _Instead she found her fingers shaking. Her father twisted her to face him, a loving look in his eye. For the first time she saw a genuine twinkle in her dark eyes, her red lips stretched into a princess-like smile. That should've told her that this was a dream, because she wasn't the princess, no, that was little Cissy, and she should turn away. But something in her chest ached, a warmth cascaded down her cheek as a knot fastened in her throat. Then as he pulled her in and hugged her close, the tiniest, single sob escaped her lips._

 _Was it really that hard to love her?_

(Bellatrix, her heart buried underneath a cage of ice. That night I gifted her a moment of love, and in return, for a short time, she allowed the ice to melt.).

* * *

 ** _10_ _th_ _December 1971_**

 _Shot-gun sounds fired in the Great Hall, erupting into sparkling reindeers and glittering snowmen. Lily swivelled on her seat and pushed past the two boys currently receiving stern words from a red-faced McGonagall, oblivious to the cacophony._

 _She thought she'd like it. But no, as always, she preferred being a whiny brat!_

 _Lily's hair flew behind her like flames caught in the wind as she ran across the marble floor, blurs of colour registering in her peripheral vision. Days… She'd spent days practicing the spell that would make Father Christmas ride his sleigh over the card, moving in and out, and over and around the words – for_ her _. What did she do? Shred it to pieces and sent it back._

 _As her legs started to seize up, Lily burst through a half-open door and stopped, panting for air. Her seething anger abated long enough for her to notice the tall, sentient object that towered above her. She knew what it was, or at least what it looked like, but it didn't show her what she had expected._

 _"She's the last person I want to see!"_

 _Furious, she turned her back to it. The image was all wrong anyway: her eyes looked more like a gorilla's and her nose like a curlew's. Lily didn't move. She rocked on the spot, twisting her fisted hands tucked under her folded arms. Maybe she was a little curious at what else it might show her?_

 _Tentatively, she turned her head to look over her shoulder, squinting hard. After a moment, she pivoted on her heel and moved forward. Tuney was there, right next to her, a smile on her face. Lily was smiling too. Then Tuney took her arms and together they spun in wide circles. Like they used to before she came to Hogwarts._

 _Lily remembered the soft petals of the white flowers falling against her rosy cheeks, the wind rushing through her hair. Once, Tuney tripped and fell in the mud. Lily giggled to herself. She got angry and stormed off. It took Lily days to talk her round, but she had, in the end._

 _Lily sighed. "I miss you, Tuney…"_

 _The next morning Lily posted another card – the normal way, not through owl post – one that would play her sister's favourite Christmas song every time she opened it._

(They say anger is merely a charade, it hides an even deeper sadness. That night, to Lily, I gifted compassion.)

* * *

. ** _21_ _st_ _December 1971_**

 _Why had he agreed to this? If he was caught now, it would be his fault for being so stupid. Sirius and James were masters at getting others into trouble._

 _Remus tip-toed, his back glued to the wall, trying to escape Peeves._

 _"Weeeeeeeeeee… Ickle firsties being naughties. Out in the corridors at this time of night, Filchie will get you."_

 _Ahead, a bobbing yellowy-orange light crept up the corridor. Filch! Panicked, he swivelled and sprinted in the opposite direction, shuddering as he ran through Peeves._

 _"FIRSTIES ESCAPING! FIRSTIES ESCAPING!"_

 _What was worse, he had no idea where he actually was or where he was heading. Peeves didn't make it any easier by throwing baubles in his direction. As soon as he found a door that unlocked he jumped in and slammed it shut, relieved when Peeve's cackling drizzled away._

 _Once Remus found the courage to open his eyes, he leant away from the door and attempted to explore his surroundings – a notoriously difficult task in the dark. He moved towards the dusty, white rays reflecting off a shiny surface. As he made out the full moon he sprung backwards, his heart thumping frantically. Not here. Not now…_

 _But then he noticed something odd. Behind him was a diamond-paned window, not the moon. As he drew closer he recognised the four figures standing beneath the moonlight: James, Sirius, Peter…and him. All were laughing and very much human._

 _Remus frowned. "You don't have to lie to me y'know. I know there's no cure. I wish there were, but there isn't."_

 _He thought about how Sirius and James had just left him. "No one will ever want to be friends with me."_

 _A stone weighing heavily on his chest, Remus eventually left his sanctuary and made for the common room – if he could find it before morning. As he walked out of the classroom something bumped against him._

 _"Ow!"_

 _Remus tried to free himself of the tangled limbs. "Get off!"_

 _"Shh…stop shouting!" hissed a familiar voice._

 _"James?"_

 _"Remus, is that you?"_

 _"No, it's Peeves," said who he now recognised as Sirius, "Of course it's him."_

 _"Where did you go? I thought you were behind us," explained James._

 _They'd come back for him?_

 _"When we said run, you were supposed to follow," said Sirius._

 _"Oh." That is all Remus managed to say, and though he couldn't see, he sensed the eye roll from Sirius._

(That night I gifted Remus a promise, that of friendship.).

* * *

 ** _25_ _th_ _December 1979_**

 _Father would be working during Christmas, again. The war, the Dark Lord, they meant far more to him than his own._

 _Barty held his books tightly against him. Head bent, his chin digging into his chest, he walked briskly down the empty corridors lined with red berry garlands. He had no destination in mind. All he wanted was a moment's peace. Possibly even a reprieve from the voices that haunted him. Crowds only made them worse._

 _Sweat pouring down the side of his forehead, almost every other millisecond he checked over his shoulder to make explicitly sure that no one was following. He couldn't see anyone. Still, for some reason he could not shake the uncomfortable tingle that flowed down his spine. He hadn't been sleeping well this past week. It was the shadows, they kept him awake._ No _. It was simply a little anxiety – stress. That is all. After all, seventh year, NEWTs…the year his destiny became finalised…_

 _Suddenly the open air felt claustrophobic. Barty stepped into a classroom, afraid he would faint. He bent over an old desk, his books falling to the floor as he took in deep, slow drags of air. Forearms shivering, he pushed himself upright to test whether the dizziness had faded. That is when he saw it, the object of his open-eyed nightmares – his father._

 _Barty blinked. Surely not. He looked behind him. There was no one there. Not again. The same visions. He thought he'd snapped out of them after taking his daily calming draughts._

 _But there was a discrepancy in the image sat in front of him. His father did not look down upon him in revulsion. For once, his wrinkled eyes shone with pride not disappointment. Rather than looking down on him, his father placed an arm around his shoulder, and squeezed him tight beside him._

 _"All I have ever wanted is for you to be proud of me, father."_

 _Barty sat down cross-legged on the dusty floor, staring at the image before him till his eye-lids drooped shut. Silence had never felt so safe…_

(Bartemius, forever tortured by a father's loathing. That night I gifted him freedom from his demons.)

* * *

. ** _2_ _nd_ _December 1992_**

 _Luna wiped the tissue at her beige top, now a gleaming muddy-brown from the gravy that ran down it. She enjoyed a nice dollop of minty gravy with her Christmas dinner, but not quite like this. Absentmindedly she pushed open the wooden door using her shoulder, as she looked up, she froze._

 _"Oh, I'm sorry. I was looking for the bathroom."_

 _In front of her stood on ornate mirror, lined with an intricately carved gold frame. Immediately upon seeing it she knew: this was no ordinary mirror. She studied the room around her. Certainly nothing spectacular about it, very bare to say the least, not even a smidgen of colour._

 _"You seem a bit lonely."_

 _Mmm…she should rectify that. It didn't take long. Soon enough, she returned with a decorative garland and wreath, which she gently draped over the mirror._

 _As she caught sight of herself reflected in the mirror's surface, she realised how bad the damage was. "That isn't going to wash out so easily, is it?" she mused._

 _A small smile crept across her face as she swiped a hand over her top. "You know, this reminds me of a Christmas when I was nine. Daddy had bought a giant turkey, which he had to shrink to get into the oven. Then when we finally got it into the oven, the oven overheated and exploded. Bit unfortunate really, there was a lot of smoke. Daddy was so flustered, he dropped hot gravy all over my arm and dress – it was beige, like this one. It scalded a little, but I didn't mind."_

 _Luna could picture the memory as clearly as if it had happened yesterday._

 _"That was our last Christmas together," she whispered, staring straight at the mirror. "Do you remember?"_

 _Luna laughed as her mother nodded at her: her white-blonde hair like silk waves over her shoulder, sea-blue eyes shining as they always had done, and one radish earing peeking through her hair. It was lovely to see her again._

(That night I received my first gift: the pleasurable company of a kind-hearted soul as giving as me.)

* * *

Like every Christmas before this, patiently I wait, for the next soul that may happen upon me so I might grant them a moment of purest joy, however transient it may be…


	11. A Perfectly Starry Christmas

**A Perfectly Starry Christmas**

 ** _A/N: This story is a substitute for the lovely GeekyLola whilst her other one comes in. Hey, you can never have too many stories :)_** ** _Merry Christmas, Lola, I hope your Christmas was as enjoyable as Luna's, if not more! -Tigger (aka whitetiger91)_**

* * *

 _Everything was perfect._

A merry fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room, as shimmering, crystal snowflakes drifted around outside. The delicious, mouth-watering smell of a roasting turkey wafted from the kitchen, causing his stomach to rumble hungrily, as he watched his daughter playing happily with her toy – a garden gnome in a purple tutu, long ago resigned to his fate as a doll – on the mat. Yes, everything was perfect; except for his frustratingly blank mind.

"Luna, are you sure there is nothing you would like for Christmas? Some doll's clothes, perhaps? A tea-set of your own?"

His little girl shook her head, oblivious to his problem. "No, Daddy, I'm fine. Nibbles already has an extensive wardrobe and I don't need anything materialistic."

"What about a snargaluff puff pup then?"

"Oh no, Daddy, I could never take one from his family. I'd imagine he'd be lonely not being with his family on Christmas if I were to have him for myself. I'll be alright."

Despite not receiving the answer he wanted, Xenophilius couldn't help but smile down at his daughter. She seemed to grow more like her mother every time he laid eyes on her. Like Pandora, Luna had a larger vocabulary than most children, and adults, and yet never appeared to be pretentious in any way. Her heart was always in the right place, causing him to wonder what he had done to deserve such a special girl.

Luna quickly turned back to her gnome, pulling out a tiny comb from the back pocket of her overalls so that she could start coming through its curly, golden wig. The gnome itself huffed uncomfortably, folding its small arms and rolling its beady, black eyes upwards, evidently hoping for its 'bedtime' to come early.

Xenophilius leant back into his armchair, watching his daughter thoughtfully. He knew she was right; there was nothing Luna was really in need of that had not already been provided for her. Unlike some, she had a warm bed to sleep in, a thatched roof over her head, somebody to play with and plenty to eat. If her clothes were too small or in need of repair, he would make sure that she had more. If her shoes were too tight – though Luna rarely liked to wear them, and thus never wore them out – he would buy two new pairs the very next day. Yet, even so, he couldn't help feel that she deserved something special for Christmas.

He allowed his blue eyes wandered around the room, searching for a possible clue as to what he could get her. As they passed across several old lamps on a side table, his buzzing and whirring printing equipment, and a selection of old magazines and gumboots haphazardly piled in a corner, they fell upon the framed picture of his wife. The picture was sitting atop the mantle and was hand-decorated in puka shells and silver glitter; a gift his Luna had given him the previous Christmas. Tears immediately pricked the corner of his eyes as his late wife smiled out at him, holding up a potion vial and pointing at its swirling red and purple content happily.

If only she was here right now – she would know what Luna needed, wanted, for Christmas. She would have sent him out with a long list of goods he needed to buy, and when he got home, she would have met him with a kiss and a snowball to the face. Alas, she was not able to help him now; as Luna often pointed out, she was instead up in the sky, basking in the brightness of all the other stars.

Sighing deeply, then quickly fixing a smile upon his face as Luna looked up at him curiously, he settled further into the chair. He would just have to manage this one on his own, and pray to Merlin that he got it right.

* * *

 _Perfection did not exist_ , _Xenophilius was sure of it._

He had been walking down the crowded streets of central London for three hours, peering into various frosted shop windows, and yet nothing had appealed to him. The shiny new brooms on display all looked much too fast and dangerous, and the jars upon jars of sweets screamed out 'tooth decay'. The one present he had considered, a small, lavender-filled plush dragon, had sold out before he could reach the front counter, the last of which went to a tall, sneering blonde witch and her equally blond husband, neither of whom looked as though they belonged anywhere near the modest toy store.

Xenophilius had even ventured into Muggle London, in the hopes of finding anything worth purchasing. All he had found, however, was confusion, as harried shoppers laddened down with heavy bags pushed past him without so much as a passing 'sorry'. He was very much surprised that they were out at all given the amount of snow fall and general slipperiness of the roads, and had made a mental note to later investigate whether or not Muggles had discovered the art of keeping warm with a few simple charms.

"Roses for your darling, roses for your darling," an old woman, dressed in Victorian clothing, called out to him as he began walking back to Diagon Alley, thinking it best he return home.

He gave the woman a polite wave, watching as she continued beckoning to people. He thought the Muggles rather rude, however, as many of them ignored her calls, some even going so far as to cross the road before they came to her. Other people took out cameras and began pointing them at the woman, clicking away as they jostled their friends. Xenophilius couldn't fathom their behaviour, particularly as the woman's roses appeared absolutely lovely in their yellow, pink and red hues. Pulling out the small leather purse he carried with him, he decided to investigate her cart.

"Look, look there. He must be part of the act, I reckon," one woman whispered to her husband as he walked past, but he firmly ignored them.

"Flowers you gov?" the lady asked as he approached, revealing blackened front teeth. Her eyes travelled up and down his cloak and she smiled wider, continuing in her cockney accent, "I picked the best for you, I did."

Carefully, he looked over the selection of flowers before picking out a delicate, light pink rose. The stem felt very stiff and the petals were a little hard as he rubbed his thumb along them. Still, it was in perfect shape, and he was sure Luna would take good care of it.

"This one will do," he said, smiling brightly at the woman. Fishing around in his purse, he took out a silver sickle, "here, more for your troubles."

The woman blinked several times as she looked at the coin placed in her gloved hand. After bending down to peer closely at it, she shook her head and leant in towards him.

"Psst, I think Mark has given you the wrong coinage. This isn't real."

"Of course it is," he replied, astonished.

"That's not a penny; it isn't even from the 19th century. You're supposed to be handing out the real things. Now that I think about it, Mark has even stuffed up your costume too, by the looks of it. At least the twit got the pocket watch right… I think." Standing up, the woman quickly smiled at the crowd, before leaning in again. Her accent had changed into the regular British drawl Xenophilius was accustomed to as she hurriedly whispered, "You go and tell Mark that he better fix you up proper, now, or I'll be telling the boss that he's not done his research again. Go on, now, quickly, before someone in the audience notices. Go on."

His turn to blink, Xenophilius leaped back as the woman hurriedly snatched the rose from his grasp. She pushed him back slightly, and as he finally complied and began to walk away, unsure as to whether or not Gringotts was misdealing – another article for The Quibbler – he could hear her shouting, "And not a penny from Mr Scrooge, oh poor Tiny Tim, whatever shall we do. Roses for sale, roses for sale! Oh won't you please buy one, lovely young miss?"

People in the street were ignorant to his confusion as they continued to bustle to get a clear view of the woman and her cart. They shoved at his shoulders and jostled his arms, forcing him further and further down the street. It was probably just as well, for he could hear the beginnings of a Christmas carol being sung, and more people in similar dress began to gather where the woman stood.

He was ready to go home anyway. His legs were beginning to ache from all the walking he had done, and as the time wore on, the more the cold winds bit at his face. Taking a deep breath, this time not marvelling at how the cold air came out as a puff as he usually did, he began walking the opposite direction.

"Say, I heard you were looking for a gift. For someone special, I bet."

Xenophilius turned around in surprise as a wheezy voice addressed him. A rather short man in his late twenties was leaning against a brick archway, looking up at him with a smirk. On his chin there were several sprouts of hair and his blue eyes appeared rather sharp and dark as they took in his appearance. Xenophilius did not quite like the look of him, as natural as he appeared, and felt the strong urge to move away from his presence. However, knowing it never did to judge a book by its cover, he remained where he was.

"Yes, that is correct," he replied hesitantly. "For my daughter."

"Well, aren't you lucky then, 'cause I've got just the lovely, unique gift for her, I do."

Xenophilius' ears perked up at hearing this and a good feeling began to churn in the pit of his stomach. His Luna was unique; that was without any doubt. If he could get her something just as special, well, that would be lucky. Still, not many people could truly appreciate just how special Luna was; whatever the man was offering had to be exceptional.

Raising his eyebrow, he said, "oh? What is that then?"

A sparkle filled the young man's eyes as he looked Xenophilius up and down, taking in his unusual clothes. Licking his lips, he dug in his pockets before pulling out a folded piece of paper.

"This, this is something no one else has. I guarantee that, I do," the man gestured to the paper excitedly with a dirty fingernail, before directing his attention towards the sky. "See that up there?"

Looking up, Xenophilius shook his head. All that he could see was a blanket of white and grey cloud, looming over the city and threatening it with heavier snow. "See what?" he asked, going to look back at the man.

The man hastily pointed back up to the sky, shouting, "Look! Way up there."

Xenophilius squinted, but wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to see. He decided to continue looking to be polite, waiting for the man to explain.

"Well, 'course you can't see them now, can you? But they're up there, they are. Little twinkling lights."

"You mean the stars?"

"That I do! Hundreds… thousands of them. Sort of like glitter, ain't they?"

"I suppose they are. At night," he agreed thoughtfully. He and Luna always loved looking up at the night sky, trying to find new constellations. He couldn't believe his luck in finding a stranger that shared their love for them.

"Well, you see, I gots some special news. I discovered one of those stars, I did. Even named it myself. Special, innit, to have something like that?" the man winked at Xenophilius, placing something shiny in his pocket quickly.

Xenophilius smiled back, wanting to hear more of what he had to say. Perhaps this man wasn't so bad after all.

"Tells you what, though, I've got no use for it anymore. Bin wanting to give it to someone special, I have, for a long time. I don't suppose you'd be interested in buying off me, would you?"

Xenophilius had to clap his hands over his ears to make sure he had heard correctly. Was the man offering him a star? How could that be? Did Muggles really own what was up there?

As if reading his mind, the man hastily continued, "Now I knows what you thinking, it's probably a right bit expensive. I mean, you look like a man of taste and sense. But I wouldn't want to rip you off, mate, not a new friend of mine. See, I'll be willing to part with dear old… Pandora…for, say, seventy quid?"

Feeling ashamed, he ducked his head. He didn't know what seventy quid even meant, and guessed it was some kind of Muggle currency. All he had was a few knuts and sickles, and some galleons – judging by the woman's reaction earlier, they were probably all fake anyway. He doubted the man would accept any of his coins. Yet the sign was there, Pandora, telling him he needed this gift.

Sensing his reluctance, the man casually leant further back against the brick wall. He began to examine his fingernails and shook his head sorrowfully. "It's a bargain, I tells you. I'm sure your …daughter, was it? would absolutely love a star as a gift. No other chick round 'ere would have one. You don' believe me, though, do you?"

"Oh no, of course I do," Xenophilius hurriedly replied, looking up at the man.

The man sighed heavily before plastering a smile upon his face. "Perhaps I could lower the price then, and throw in this here Certificate of Warranty," he gestured to the folded paper in his hand and nodded towards a grassy hill that could just be seen above the shop rooves, "This paper here tells you it's official. You go take that up to that observatory up there and they'll tell you. I'll even be willing to let it go for fifty quid, alright?"

Deciding honesty was the best policy, Xenophilius held out eleven galleons. "I'm afraid this is all I have."

The youth's eyes gleamed as he took in the shiny gold. Picking up one, he flipped it in his palm and began tracing over the strange markings with his fingertip. "Never seen one of these before. Is it real?"

"I think so, though a woman told me it wasn't," he admitted, not wanting to lie to the man.

Lifting the galleon up to his teeth, the men bit into it cautiously. "Seems real enough," he said, examining the surface again. Then, peering up at the wizard, he sighed loudly. "I suppose… I suppose I'll let you have it for this. Mind you, you're getting the bargain."

Smiling broadly, Xenophilius wanted nothing more to hug the man before him. What generosity this man had! What selflessness, what graciousness! He felt his eyes begin to water and, with shaky hands, gladly accepted the piece of paper the man offered.

"Oh thank you, thank you!"

"Oi, alright, steady on!" the man gasped as Xenophilius gave in and firmly hugged the man, emitting a small squeak.

He now had the absolutely, most perfect gift for his Luna, and just in time. The sky was beginning to darken as the wind became fiercer, causing his robes to whip furiously about his ankles. He waved farewell to man who promptly ran off, laughing loudly, and began to head towards the hill he had pointed out. The man had said something about being able to see the star on a telepope, and he wanted to see how beautiful it was before he showed Luna.

* * *

 _Disastrous. Everything was horribly, irreparably, disastrous. Nothing could fix this evening._

Carefully, with small tears, Xenophilius unravelled the ribbon and matching bright red paper of the package before him. Despite the little holes that already covered the top of the box, he did not want to completely destroy the beautiful wrapping job Luna had managed. It was the least he could do after the blunders he made shopping the afternoon before. He knew her face would not be shining as it did so now, watching him expectantly and awaiting his surprise.

"Ouch, what…uh, oh… oh, it's lovely Luna, how did you ever know?" he said as he quickly withdrew his finger and placed it in his mouth to suck, feeling it begin to throb.

Luna beamed up at him from her position on the floor by the tree. "It's a he, daddy, not an it. Do you like him?"

The Cornish pixy rattled the cage that it was in, sticking its tongue out at him. Luna had evidently caught it in the garden the night before when she had told him she was looking at the radishes they had planted. She knew blue was his favourite colour, and had probably connected that fact to the azure blue skin of the pixy. How she managed to wrap him up without getting bitten was a mystery to him.

"I do," he said finally, trying to make his voice not sound strained.

"You'll like this then," she said, giggling as she pulled out another wrapped package from behind her back.

Xenophilius accepted it hesitantly, not sure he really wanted to open it. Still, watching Luna's excited face, her eyes lit up in anticipation, he unwrapped the package. Hopefully the floppiness of the parcel meant that gloves were inside.

Squeezing his eyes shut and biting his tongue, he prepared for another bite to come his way as he pulled the contents out. He released a huge sigh of relief when no pain came.

"Now we can play together! They even match!" Luna squealed, clapping her hands together.

Opening one eye before the other, he saw that he was holding two small pieces of material. Smoothing them out in his palm, he realised that they were probably clothing for his pixie to wear.

"Oh, thank you, Luna, they're... uh… very creative as always." Leaning forwards, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Then, pulling out the gift he was hiding behind his back, he smiled sadly. "This is my gift for you, pet. I'm afraid it's not too spectacular, though."

The girl took the package from him, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. She, too, took the time to open it, cautiously removing the ribbon as though it were as fine as a spider's web. As the final piece of paper was removed, several little objects fell into her lap. Lifting one up, she examined it with a small smile.

"Now, I'm afraid I couldn't get you what I wanted to. These stars only light up in the dark, apparently – you stick them on your walls or on the ceiling. I wanted to buy you a real star, but unfortunately there were a few hiccoughs with that…" Xenophilius trailed off, his thoughts turning bitter as his memories of the day before came to his mind.

Not only had the man at the observatory laughed in his face and called him an 'old fool' to think that he could buy a star, he had also discovered that his favourite pocket watch had gone missing. He was now left to face the disappointment of his daughter at not getting a delightful gift. Squirming uncomfortably in his chair, he tried to think of what he could say to Luna, noticing that her eyes were swimming with tears.

He turned his gaze towards the picture of Pandora on the mantle, wondering what he could do. Perhaps he could sneak out after desert and find another gift for her. Maybe the shop in Diagon Alley had an extra plush dragon out the back, or someone had returned theirs? Perhaps he could find a less dangerous model broom Luna could put her garden gnome on?

Becoming lost in his thoughts, he was surprised when he felt a small hand clasp his own. Looking up, he saw Luna smiling up at him, her eyes still shining.

"Silly Daddy, you can't buy a star! No body owns them." Then, with a slight tug, she tried to pull him up out of his seat. Slowly and with a little groan, he got up and allowed her to drag him over to the window. Opening the velvets to reveal the night sky outside, she pointed to wear the clouds remained highlighted silver by the moon. "See? Their beauty belongs to the world, just like mummy's does."

This time, he could see. Though the cloud cover was thick, Xenophilius knew Luna was, as always, right. The stars were for everybody to see, as was now his wife. Lifting Luna up onto his hip and hugging her closely, he watched the sky.

 _It was perfect._

* * *

 ** _P.S. I know Xenophilius, though eccentric, is a somewhat wise man, and was probably even a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. Though his weird hunches may be right in some circumstances (ala Deathly Hallows), he also tends to be gullible with many other things (Crumpled-Horned Snorcacks anyone?) Hence, that's why I've portrayed him the way I have in this story._**

 _ **P.S.S. The description of the rose… get your minds out of the gutters. I was simply saying it was a plastic/ prop rose -.-**_


	12. Believe

**Believe**

* * *

 _ **Written by the lovely lokilette, author of tales such as 'For want of a Brother' and 'Alpha and Omega'.**_

* * *

 **[1979]**

The sky was a dark and barren canvas, which seemed like a fitting companion to the empty mansion that spilled its warm, yellow light onto the patio behind her. If Narcissa looked close enough, she could make out the subtle motion of the clouds, or maybe she was only seeing what she wanted. After all, one could only hope for clear skies and, if they should be so lucky, a healthy flurry on Christmas Day.

Somewhere up there, behind the foreboding veil of black, there were stars, and in her mind, she saw them clearly. Sirius, who was no doubt out boozing, or more likely passed out somewhere by now, sleeping off the heavy partying. Then there was Bellatrix, but there was no telling where exactly she was. No sense in even guessing. And Andro—no. Narcissa lowered her gaze to watch the peacocks in the yard below as they slept. That was one constellation she had to force herself to forget.

When she regained herself and trusted her eyes not to wander, Narcissa glanced back up and traced another constellation in her mind. Cygnus, who was probably already sleeping at this late hour with nothing compelling to keep him awake. Mother, naturally, would be beside him, and they would both owl in the morning after their lengthy wake-up routine to wish the Malfoy household a Merry Christmas. But next to that...

As her eyes slid to another invisible constellation, one she had grown to know slowly just over the past few months, she rested her hand on her slightly extended stomach. Even though she was only a few months along, already she knew her son would be Draco. Her little dragon. The most important stars in her sky.

There must be a shooting star somewhere in that vast expanse, right? Somewhere unseen, a star died and another was born. It seemed almost silly to wish on stars, and she had never been compelled to before, but her world was slowly changing and she needed a wish now more than ever.

"It's just you and I tonight," Narcissa whispered, rubbing her hand gently along her stomach. "Your father's out working, trying to make the world—what will soon be _your_ world—a better place for you to live in."

Narcissa paused and allowed her eyes to linger on the void she knew was Andromeda for just a moment before tearing her gaze away.

"But everyone has a different idea of what the perfect world should be. So my wish for you, tonight and every night hereafter, is that the world will be whatever you want it to be."

The flutters in her stomach and the firm kicks assured her that her son was listening to her voice, even if he didn't yet understand the sentiment.

From somewhere in the depths of the house, the grandfather clock started to chime. Once, twice, thrice, and she counted with it all the way up to twelve.

"Merry Christmas, my little dragon."

* * *

 **[1984]**

 **[4 years old]**

Draco flexed his feet towards the fireplace and wiggled his toes, giggling at the way the heat made his soles feel warm and tingly. The grandfather clock in the other room began to chime, and he paused just long enough to count the tolls. One, two, three, four. He lost count somewhere around six, but the clock kept on going.

They had already eaten breakfast, so it was approaching lunchtime now. The presents were still wrapped under the tree, all dressed in colorful paper and enormous bows. Every now and then one would wiggle or make a strange sound, piquing his curiosity, and the anticipation was slowly killing him. Too much longer, and he was sure he'd simply explode.

"Mother?" Draco whined, picking himself off the floor and shuffling over to the large armchair she had spent the morning in. She was reading, and she hated being interrupted while she was in the middle of something, but this just couldn't wait. So he crept closer, only daring to peep slightly over the armchair to assess her reaction before going any further.

"What is it, love?" she asked, though her eyes remained glued to her book.

"When's Father coming home?" he asked into the arm of the chair so that the fabric muffled his words.

"Hm? You'll have to speak up. You're mumbling."

"When's Father coming home?" he asked again, louder this time.

"I haven't any idea. Your father's working, and you know how important his work is."

"Yeah, I know," Draco grumbled.

Mother paused from her reading and closed the book slightly, slipping a delicate finger between the pages so she wouldn't lose her spot.

"Are you sure you don't want to go ahead and just open your presents?"

"No! Father _has_ to be here so we can open our presents _together_." Draco crossed his arms and stuck his lower lip out. Why didn't she get it? The Goyles all spent Christmas together. The Crabbes did, too. If it was good enough for them, then surely the Malfoys should be together for Christmas, too.

"Draco, my love." Mother set her book on the stand and pulled him into her lap. "Father works very hard for our future. Sometimes change requires sacrifice, and it requires bravery. I know you want him here, but you have to be strong. Can you do that? For Father?"

Draco crossed his arms tighter and pulled his knees to his chest, refusing to give up his pout. But Mother was giving him that look, the one that said she could do this all day if need be, so he begrudgingly nodded.

"What a good boy." Mother kissed him lightly on the forehead and smoothed his hair into place before setting him back on the ground and returning to her book.

The day passed with him jumping at every noise, expecting that at any moment he'd hear the Floo flare up and Father would step out. But the hours ticked by, counted by chimes on the clock, and he never showed.

The last thing Draco remembered was waking from where he had passed out in the big, comfy chair by the fire just long enough to hear the endless chimes. As he rolled over and fell back into a restless sleep, he realized, just in passing, that Christmas had already come and gone.

* * *

 **[1985]**

 **[5 years old]**

"Draco, my goodness, where are your manners? You need to _chew_ your food," Mother nagged, not for the first time that evening.

"Others might mistake you for a barn animal. Tell me, are you a pig?" Father asked, delicately slicing a piece off his steak as he spoke.

"No, Father," Draco answered after he finished swallowing his mouthful of food.

"I should hope not."

Draco made sure to take smaller bites after that, but he didn't slow his pace any. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and they were all together for the first time he could remember. As far as he was concerned, Christmas Day couldn't come fast enough.

After shoving the last bit of food in his mouth, Draco slammed his silverware on the table triumphantly and announced, "All done! May I go to bed now?"

"Are you feeling all right, dear?" Mother asked, knitting her brows.

"Of course."

"Then why would you want to go to bed so early? It's only five."

"Because," Draco said, dragging out the vowels in a whine. "The sooner I go to bed, the sooner it's Christmas, and Santa can't come if I'm _awake_."

Mother and Father exchanged looks across the table, and even though he was too young to decipher the meaning, he understood that it wasn't good news.

"Where did you hear something like that?" Mother asked, setting aside her silverware and folding her hands in her lap as she studied him. Draco just shrugged.

"Dunno. Goyle, maybe?" Draco began to fidget in his seat. He didn't like the way they looked at him and then at each other. Mother continued to eye him curiously, but Father had already gone back to his meal as if there was nothing further to discuss.

"Well, that explains it," he said as he cut off a piece of steak and popped it into his mouth. As obvious as it all seemed to Father, Draco still didn't understand any of it. Was Santa supposed to be a secret and he had spoiled the surprise? He hadn't meant to, he was just so darn _excited._

He must have still looked confused because Father continued between bites.

"Leave it to a Goyle to spread utter nonsense. You must remember, Draco, they're rather dull creatures. You can't trust everything they say."

There was a knot growing in the pit of Draco's stomach, and he was regretting having eaten his dinner so quickly. He was afraid to ask the question that lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he just had to know for sure.

"Do you mean...Santa's not real?"

"Use your head. Why would a wizard—and if he existed, of course Santa would be a wizard—spend all that time delivering presents to Muggle children, of all things? It's just absurd."

Father scoffed once more and returned to his meal with such fervor that it was clear he had said everything he intended to say. That suited Draco just fine. He wasn't sure he could handle any more than that anyway. Already, he felt the familiar sting of tears pricking his eyes, and it was all he could do to hold them back.

"May I...," he started, but he paused as his voice cracked. "May I be excused?"

"Of course, dear," Mother answered. Her eyes were locked on Father as she spoke, mouth pulled into a tight line. That meant no one was watching as he slipped out of his chair and began the slow, arduous walk upstairs like nothing was wrong. In reality, everything was.

Draco buried himself beneath his heavy comforter and curled into a ball as the first tears started to fall. Santa was the last thing he had to cling to. If he couldn't believe in that, then what exactly was there to believe in?

* * *

 **[1991]**

 **[11 years old]**

The moment he saw the raven-haired boy walking towards him, Draco braced himself for the impact. When their shoulders collided, the other boy was knocked off-balance, falling into the ginger beside him and nearly causing them both to topple over.

"Watch where you're going, Potter," Draco snapped, smiling smugly to himself. Potter may have snubbed his initial offer of friendship, and perhaps he'd overestimated the Boy-Who-Lived, but the last laugh would be his nonetheless.

"What's your problem?" Potter responded, rubbing his shoulder.

"I'm in a hurry, and you're in my way. See, I'm actually going _home_ for Christmas, and my parents are waiting for me. But I suppose you don't know what that's like, do you?"

Anger lit up those emerald eyes in a rather satisfying way as Potter balled his hands into fists and his whole body tensed up. He relaxed only slightly when Weasley put a hand on his shoulder.

"Lay off, Malfoy" the ginger snapped, lips drawn tight as he tried to drag his friend away.

"Belt up, ginger. No one was talking to you. It's no wonder you're staying here. Can your family even afford Christmas presents?"

The wave of red that spread like wildfire across those pale, freckled cheeks was all the answer Draco needed.

"C'mon, Harry. Just ignore him," Weasley grumbled, pushing Harry along down the hallway. That suited Draco just fine. Playing with them was fun, but he didn't want to be late, either, and he hurried towards the Hogwarts Express.

When he disembarked at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Mother would be there waiting, as she had promised in her letter. They would chatter about mostly useless nonsense just to fill the silence, and they would go home and pretend that everything was just fine, but they both knew the truth. The large mansion would still feel empty on Christmas Day because Father wouldn't be there, yet again. At this point, no one expected him to be.

* * *

 **[1996]**

 **[16 years old]**

It was a relief, almost, the way the student body's spirit had been shattered. Draco knew, without a doubt, that he wouldn't have been able to stand the cheer and the merrymaking and the carols and the festivities. He may have tolerated it other years, but not this year.

"You'll be leaving me soon, won't you?" a voice whined next to him in high-pitched, unearthly tones. Draco glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes to find her with her arms crossed, lip stuck out in a pout. "You'll be heading home for Christmas and poor, sad Myrtle will be stuck sitting all alone on her _toilet_." The last word was practically shrieked, instigating a dull throb in his temple.

"Not now, Myrtle. I'm not in the mood," Draco snapped, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water on his face as if that would help calm his racing mind. It didn't.

He wanted nothing at all to do with Christmas. No mentions of it, no songs, no merriment. It was all a sham, anyway. What exactly was there to celebrate? The Wizarding world was currently at war, the future dangling in the balance, and his own father...

Draco splashed more water on his face, swallowing hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. In a week's time, Hogwarts students would be piling on the Hogwarts Express to head home for Christmas break. For the first time in his Hogwarts career, Draco wouldn't join them. What was the sense? Mother had been distant and distracted, and Father...Well, Father wouldn't be there, like always. Only, it was different this time.

He was the worst sort of coward. Mother needed him, locked in that large, empty mansion with nothing but the lowly staff for company. What a miserable Christmas it would be. Yet, he would abandon her, just as his Father had abandoned them, because he couldn't force himself to face the emptiness that lingered within Malfoy Manor. The atmosphere had been dark and stifling ever since Father had been sent to Azkaban. No Christmas at all would be better than that.

"You'll be happy to know, Myrtle," Draco said absentmindedly as he stared into his own cold, hollow eyes reflected back at him in the mirror, "that I won't be leaving for Christmas this year."

The ghost let out an excited shriek and proceeded to turn somersaults in the air, disappearing into one wall and reappearing out another. At the very least, he supposed, neither of them would be alone for Christmas. The only difference was this would be the best one she'd had, and for him, it would be the worst.

* * *

 **[1998]**

 **[18 years old]**

The excitement in the air was palpable, like small jolts of electricity that made his skin tingle. It was inconceivable how fast the Wizarding world healed, even though the war had only ended earlier that year and there had been some heavy losses. Draco didn't understand how everyone could be so jovial, given everything that had happened.

Yet, there it was. People were singing and laughing and talking in excited tones as they made their way to the Great Hall and waited to board the Hogwarts Express home. Draco had decided weeks ago that he wouldn't be among them. There was little left for him to go back to during the holidays at Malfoy Manor anyway, so he might as well devote the time to his studies and figuring out his future.

As he was looking out over the Great Hall from the top of the staircase, Draco was suddenly aware that someone had joined him and was leaning over the rail beside him. When he turned to look, he found two dreamy, far-away eyes staring out through wavy, blonde hair, examining their peers.

"Isn't it wonderful? The Christmas spirit, I mean. This is my favorite time of year." Luna's voice was even and melodic, and despite himself, Draco found himself relaxing as she spoke as if her words were a lullaby.

"It's all right, I guess," Draco answered. It was a lie, of course. He couldn't stand anything at all about the season, but if he said that then she'd keep on pressing for a reason, and that wasn't a conversation he particularly wanted to have. Certainly not with her, of all people. Why was she even talking to him in the first place?

"Are you not going home?" Luna asked, looking around for his bag. Draco simply shook his head. "It's just my father and I. Has been for a while. But I can't imagine not going home. We have all these traditions. Don't you have anything like that?"

Draco shook his head again. He couldn't recall anything like that, now that he thought about it. When he was younger, he and Mother would decorate, and the mansion would look splendid and breathtaking. Ever since he was six or so, though, the House-Elves had handled the decorating, as well. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that not every household did Christmas the way they did, though he could hardly fathom it going any other way.

"Here, take this." Luna fished around in her pocket and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe with a Dirigible plum dangling off of it. "We decorate the house with these, but you can have this one. The mistletoe is supposed to bring you good luck, and the Dirigible plum not only opens you up to receive the good vibes of the season, it also conveniently keeps away the nargles."

Draco accepted it reluctantly, and only because Luna was staring at him with those big, patient eyes that implied she wouldn't be satisfied until he did so. Who knew what sort of disgusting things had infested it by now, not to mention how hideous it looked in general. There was no way he would hang something like this anywhere. As soon as he got back to the common rooms, he vowed to put it where it belonged—the garbage.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," Luna said, offering a smile and a little wave before grabbing her bag and making her way down the final stairs and towards the front door.

He still had no idea what she wanted or what her motives were, but this was the first time this year that someone outside of Slytherin had shown him any kindness, not that he could blame them.

Draco turned the sprig over in his palm, the needles prickly against his skin. Maybe he'd hang it up over his bunk after all. It wasn't like there was anyone left in his dorm to see it, anyway, and he could definitely use some luck at this point. Maybe things would slowly start to change for the better.

* * *

 **[1999]**

 **[19 years old]**

"Keep your eyes closed. No peeking."

Luna's hand was soft in his, and in that moment, Draco realized the amount of trust she was putting in him as he lead her across the grounds of Malfoy Manor. It was mind-boggling and ill-advised, but for some reason, she was confident that he would keep her safe while her eyes were closed, and he had no intention of letting her down in that regard.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. Call it an early Christmas present."

They hadn't been dating for long, but Draco was determined to make this Christmas—their first Christmas together—memorable. While it was true that she would spend Christmas with her father, as always, Christmas Eve was theirs, and with a bit of advice from Mother, he'd somehow managed to muddle his way through preparing what he hoped would be the perfect gift.

He stopped at the bank of the small pond, several feet from the water, and took a deep breath. It was the moment of truth.

"All right, you can open your eyes."

He watched with baited breath as her eyelids fluttered for a moment before revealing the brilliant sapphires underneath.

"Oh, Draco," she breathed, sweeping her gaze over it all. The moon was already rising over the trees in the distance, cascading a soft silver over everything. The pond's surface was dressed in dark velvet, occasionally reflecting the green and yellow flashes of the fireflies that hovered over it.

Brandishing his wand, Draco lit the candles he had laid out beside the pond, and the soft flicker of firelight revealed the satin sheet decked out with an array of foods, each sitting atop beautiful china.

"It's beautiful!" Luna declared, smiling as she took it all in.

Yes, it was, he thought as he watched the light reflecting in her eyes and the wonder in her face. Perhaps this was the so-called "magic of Christmas" that everyone spoke so highly of.

* * *

 **[2001]**

 **[21 years old]**

Draco thumbed the mistletoe resting in his palm. Time had already started to wear it, even though it was only a few years old. They had broken up earlier that year, and while he had begun the process of moving on during the several months since, Christmas brought it all back.

They weren't right for each other, and the split had been mutual. She had jumped on the opportunity to apprentice for a well-known magizoologist, and he was getting ready to spend the next several years pursuing higher education in alchemy. They wanted different things out of life, and even from the start, they were far too different to make it work. But he regretted none of it, not the beginning and certainly not the end.

Clutching the decoration in one hand, Draco took the stairs two-by-two and made his way into the study, where the family's Christmas tree stood, beautifully decorated with neatly-wrapped presents tucked underneath.

"Good morning," he said to Mother as he passed, who was sitting in a chair staring into the fire when he entered.

"Morning, Draco. What's that you have there?" she asked as he hung the mistletoe on the tree.

"It's mistletoe. For good luck."

"And, uh, the other thing?" Mother wrinkled her nose as she looked past him at the ornament. Draco had to admit that it _was_ a bit of an eyesore, especially in contrast to the rest of the carefully trimmed tree, but that was part of its charm. It stood out, just like the woman who had given it to him.

"It's a Dirigible plum. Or it was. I suppose it's seen better days. It keeps the nargles away."

"Uh-huh. Of course." Mother raised her brows, but her lips turned up in a small smile all the same as she rested her chin on her hand.

"Not that I believe in them, the silly, contrived creatures. It's just..."

"I think it's lovely, Draco. It's a nice touch."

She was lying, of course. Mother did this thing where she played with her wedding ring any time she flat-out lied, but as long as she was willing to humor him, he had no intention of pressing the issue.

Draco picked up a small box, wrapped in silver paper and topped with a green bow, from underneath the tree. It was special. The House-Elves generally did the holiday shopping, but he had wasted three weeks of his own time hunting its contents down, deciding on what the perfect gift would be.

Without a word, he crossed the room, placing it in her delicate hands. The surprise on her face was enough to have made the time spent worth it, without her even opening it.

Her hands trembled slightly as she peeled back the wrapping to reveal the velvet box underneath, and she gasped as she opened the lid. It was a pair of earrings shaped like a star flare, decorated with diamonds, and enchanted so that they twinkled at intervals.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Draco whispered, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

In a soft, wavering voice, she answered, "Thank you, my little dragon," as she hastily brushed away the single tear that slid down her cheek.

* * *

 **[2005]**

 **[25 years old]**

Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Step after step, Luna focused on her walking. For the first time in a very long time, she was completely and utterly lost. It was Christmas—the multi-colored lights and biting cold reminded her of that—but it didn't _feel_ like Christmas. This year was the first year she would spend feeling truly and utterly alone.

Luna stopped when she realized that she had finally made it to a familiar place. Only a few stones off. She took the last few steps and stopped in front of a granite slab that was topped with the sculpture of a heliopath. Despite telling herself every step of the way that she wouldn't cry, a tear burned a cold trail down her face as she traced the name with her eyes.

Xenophilius Lovegood

Four months, two weeks, and three days since her father had died from a sudden illness. Some days were easier than others, but as much as she had tried to prepare herself for it, Christmas was harder than she had ever imagined.

"I miss you, Daddy," she confessed to the silent night, and the cold wind carried her words away in a puff of white smoke. Maybe they would find their way to him.

She was getting ready to continue walking to Merlin knows where—anywhere away from there—when something caught her eye. There was a decoration stuck to the side of the stone with a spell, bouncing against it with each gust of wind. Luna cupped her palm around it to get a better look.

When she realized what it was, she couldn't help but laugh, even as a few more tears crawled down her face. It was faded from time and wear, even though a spell had been cast at some point in an attempt to better preserve it. Still, there was no mistaking the mistletoe, nor the slightly petrified remains of a Dirigible plum.

Though her father had expressed concerns when she had started dating the man he insisted on referring to as a "that former Death Eater," there was only one thing Luna regretted from her time with Draco. She never thanked him for reminding her, right when she was about to give up hope, what it meant to believe.

This was the second time he had saved her from the brink of despair, in his own way, and the biggest travesty was that he would never know it. As Luna made her way back home, where she was hoping Rolf would be waiting after his trip abroad, she sent good vibes out into the atmosphere that wherever he was, Draco how much his small gesture had meant.

* * *

 **[2000]**

 **[20 years old]**

Luna pressed her forehead against the window, watching large snowflakes falling lazily from the gray sky. There was already a blanket of snow that made the countryside look pristine and fresh, and they were supposed to get another inch or two by that night.

"Are you _sure_ about this, Luna? I mean really, truly sure?" Dad asked for probably the tenth time that morning.

"I am."

"But he's a Death Eater. You know that."

"He _was_ a Death Eater."

"You know all the horrible things he did, and yet you still insist on this?"

She had hidden their relationship as long as she could for fear of upsetting her father, but there had never been secrets between them and she didn't want to start now, so she had confessed that she was seeing Draco Malfoy. Her father wasn't thrilled about the idea, and she could hardly blame him. Like most parents, he just wanted her to be safe and happy.

"Is it so much to ask that I get to spend Christmas with _two_ people I care about this year?" Luna asked, turning to face her father, who clenched his jaw against the question.

"If it means that much to you, sweetie, then I'd be happy to have him, and I promise I'll behave myself."

He took the last few steps to close the gap between them and pulled her into a tight hug. When he finally released her, he stepped back and studied her face for a moment.

"Well, I suppose if he's going to be here, we'll have to put up some extra decorations. Plus, with all that negative energy, for sure we'll have to have more protection against nargles. They're drawn to that stuff, you know. Nothing they love more."

Dad was still mumbling to himself as he left the room, presumably to collect more things. He was in such a good mood, especially after having had the idea of Draco spending Christmas with them sprung on him, but Luna couldn't help but feel her Christmas spirit plummet at the mention of nargles.

She had already begun her apprenticeship training with a magizoologist that she liked and respected, so when he had originally laughed off her belief in the creatures her father had always talked about, she figured he wasn't as good at his job as he claimed to be. But as time went on and she had started traveling and studying herself, something inside her shifted. Was it possible that it was _Dad_ who had been wrong all these years? Was it all really lies, everything she'd grown to believe in?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a _whoosh_ from the fireplace as the flames turned green and a platinum-blond man stepped out from them, shaking off his robes.

"Am I late?" he asked. As Dad walked back into the room with a small box of things, he added, "Or am I too early?"

"No, no, you're right on time. We're just putting up some finishing touches," Dad said, holding up a small wreath made of mistletoe, Dirigible plums, and a few decorative flowers.

"For the nargles, right?"

Dad hesitated, but Luna could tell that he was impressed. It wasn't exactly a response he would've expected, especially the way it was delivered with no taunting or malice.

"Indeed."

Dad handed the wreath to him and motioned to a corner of the room. Draco glanced at her as if she was supposed to save him, but Luna merely shrugged. Resigned to his fate, Draco drew his wand and went to hang the wreath where he was told.

"Do you remember this, sweetie?" Dad asked as he pulled a small statue from the box. It looked like a horse mid-gallop except its mane and feet were on fire.

"Mum made it," Luna said as she ran a finger over the smooth, cool surface.

"What is it?" Draco asked, leaning over her shoulder.

"A heliopath."

Luna smiled as she remembered the stories Mum used to tell about all sorts of creatures as she pulled Luna into her lap and did her hair. It was the only way to keep her still back then, and after that, Luna had squirmed just so Mum would be forced to tell her stories.

"They don't really exist, do they?" Draco asked, and Luna's chest tightened at the skepticism in his voice. It had only recently occurred to her that this might be yet another myth perpetuated by her parents. She didn't want to believe it was all a lie, but the older she got, the harder it was becoming to cling to those beliefs. "I mean, there's no proof of them. No one's ever seen them."

"You've never seen the wind, either, have you? Would you argue that it doesn't exist?"

"Well, no, of course not." Draco scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You don't have to see something to believe in it." Dad set the sculpture on the mantle and brushed away a layer of dust as he smiled at it. Luna was sure he was thinking of Mum. They missed her equally, especially at Christmastime. "There are plenty of things that people believe in that they can't see. Like instincts and gut reactions. Like heliopaths. Like nargles. Like...like..."

"Santa Claus?" Draco offered, and Dad burst out laughing. It made her smile to see him like that, as he clasped a hand on Draco's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Precisely! Santa encourages children to behave and gives them something to look forward to. He represents a different sort of magic than any witch or wizard can produce. People do countless good deeds in his name around this time of year. But just because you've never seen him, doesn't mean he doesn't exist, and even if he doesn't, is it a bad thing to believe in him?"

"Um, no?" Draco said, more of a question than an answer.

"Of course not. Never stop believing. Oh, and put this over there, if you don't mind," Dad added, handing Draco a bouquet of petrified flowers in a worn-out vase that was meant to ward off troublesome spirits.

Draco looked thoroughly out of his element, and he kept fidgeting with his robes, but he was there and that was the most important part. Luna smiled as Dad handed him item after item and he put each in its proper place. Even if he didn't really understand why they were doing it, he did it anyway.

Her father's words still echoed in her mind. _Never stop believing._ So what if there was no evidence that nargles or heliopaths even existed? Maybe they hadn't been discovered yet, and maybe they'd never be discovered, but at that moment, Luna decided she would never doubt again. For better or worse, she would always continue to believe.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: Written for the Secret Santa exchange in Diagon Alley II. Merry Christmas to the one and only Tigger (whitetiger91), who I drew from the virtual magical hat. Sorry this is so late and thank you for understanding! Since her favorite person in the world is Draco, I figured I'd do a Draco-centric Christmas feels piece. Hope you enjoy. :3_**

 ** _Prompts:_**

 ** _\- "Winter Heavens" by George Meredith_**

 ** _\- (character) Xenophilius Lovegood_**

 ** _\- (situation) fluff with a twist_**


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